


Planning For Life

by WauryD



Series: Planning For Life [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domesticity, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Foster Care, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Like really slow, Past Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, but actually married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-03-29 03:06:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 73,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13918068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WauryD/pseuds/WauryD
Summary: When tragedy befalls the family of her mentor, Brienne Tarth uproots her life to attempt and foster two of the remaining children. As a single woman of 23 who has neither children of her own, nor the expected maternal looks, however, social services aren’t too keen on releasing the kids into her care.Enters an option, complex in its legality, that is only going to complicate things further...





	1. Bear Island

**Author's Note:**

> Amazingly beta-ed by MamaBarely! So very grateful for that.
> 
> THIS IS A SLOW BURN. There are 32 chapters and there will be a lot of drama until it gets to THAT part, so you're all warned.
> 
> WARNING: There is mention of sexual misconduct on a minor. It's described but not in an active voice, but it's there.
> 
> WARNING: There is mention of suicide. The manner of death is partially described, but not in an active voice.
> 
> There will be reminders of those warnings at the beginning of the two chapters concerned.

“Do I smell freesias?”

Brienne closed her eyes, resisting the urge to cringe at the shrill voice of her client. The florist had been specifically instructed, and having dealt with the man for nearly two years, she knew he would have been extremely careful to follow her notes.

There was no way any freesias had made it to the venue.

“No, ma'am. There are none in the flowers we’ve received,” she answered firmly. There was no place for doubt, even though it didn’t always deter her customers from demanding things to be investigated. The schedule was perfectly oiled, as always, and while there was space for surprises, there was none for caprice.

The lady, a willowy woman who seemed ten years older than her age, squinted at her in near disgust, searching for a weakness. Brienne offered her calmest, most neutral expression, waiting for either further complaints, or the acceptance that her work, as usual, had been done properly.

“Well. There better not be. I would be very disappointed.” Mrs. Mormont turned , leaving the ballroom in a huff.

While this kind of event - fundraisers aimed at swindling the elite out of their pocket change - tended to be highly profitable, it also unsurprisingly gave Brienne some of her most difficult clients. The exact shade of napkins, the right height of chairs, and many other imaginary fancies that often proved to only be pretexts to criticize.

Still, it paid the bills, and allowed her employer, NorthStar Events, to take on less advantageous charity events.

Brienne returned her attention to her tablet, checking off the cutlery that had just arrived, and instructing the service staff to distribute it to the tables according to the chart she had prepared. They’d all witnessed Mrs. Mormont’s various bitter complaints, some of them even making sure they carried measuring tapes to check their own work. A list of songs not to be played was handed to the band’s conductor, with the directive to refer anyone who might request them to her. She had quietly warned them all that the customer was temperamental, and not to take any harsh word personally. Chances were, every single person on staff that night was going to get an earful at one point or another. 

Brienne had a knack for deflecting the (vastly) undue criticism from undeserving employees back to herself and resolving the actual issues, if there really were any. Her shell had weathered much worse than petty privileged lords could ever deal.

Preparations finished on time without any further incident, and the hosting staff began welcoming in the guests. She slinked away, her place being in the shadows of hallways and the corners of rooms until the event was over, away from sight but keeping a keen eye on everything.

She was not averse to staying out of social proceedings, although well aware that her client felt she should simply not be seen at all. Another planner had even been requested after her initial meeting with Mrs. Mormont, but her employer had firmly explained that no one else was available.

In truth, Catelyn Stark had often had to present such lies in order to provide both Brienne with work, and the customers with the best possible service. Brienne’s experience with large scale events was unparalleled amongst the Winterfell agency, and she was one of the best in the field north of the Reach. Her exterior simply didn’t reflect that.

Tall, mannish, and distinctly unpretty, she had had to contend with mockery from a very young age, despite being born to a noble house. On paper, her traits could have painted a nice picture: light blond hair, deep blue eyes, freckles on fair skin. 

The reality was quite a different story: her hair is akin to straw, so she kept it short; her eyes were too big, framing a nose too large and a mouth too wide. The freckles were everywhere, not even managing to disappear whenever one of her exceedingly deep and easy blushes invaded her neck and her face. Her teeth had even been crooked, until her father had taken pity on her and allowed her to get braces.

She had felt like a gangling teenager since she was eight. Around fourteen, she had started realizing that there was power - both physical and mental - in her body. While she hadn’t been allowed to join any of the sports team for varying discriminatory reasons, she had still trained on her own, soon acquiring the musculature that befitted her strong frame.

While she was not any prettier, and still got overt snide comments, if anyone ever tried to start a physical altercation, she was now able to easily brush them off.

Having been confined to the backstage of most events she had tried participating in, she had quickly learned to become efficient and plan ahead; how to apprehend problems, obtain and manage resources, time, and people. By the time she had turned eighteen, thanks to her vast networking of service providers, even her former bullies begrudgingly came to her to organize their social events.

Four years later, she was working at a high-end agency owned by one of the biggest noble families in the North, doing a job she loved most of the time.

The fundraiser went on without any major hitch. As the guests departed, Brienne began her tour to supervise the packing to be done that night, and request reports from every team leader. Their feedback would be dissected for elements to improve upon, and lessons to be learned.

Mrs Mormont had been drunk since about a third of the event, and the intoxication only further reduced her filter. She mumbled undignified comments at the organizer’s appearance when Brienne tried to present some form of summary of the night, and Brienne had a car called for her when she clearly appeared unable to stand properly anymore.

Discussions with difficult  _ and _ hungover clients were always nice things to look forward to.

Once the cleaning crew confirmed that they had their work planned and that she’d be informed of any problem, she started making her way back to her hotel room. It was now past two in the morning, and she’d have to be back on site by eight to supervise the rest of the packing. Hopefully, her customer would show up before lunch time, and not require a meeting at an ulterior date. Bear Island was pretty in the spring, but much colder than Brienne could ever appreciate.

Her ignored texts and emails finally got some attention in the cab ride. Her father hoping to lure her back to Tarth for a fair (a bit far from Winterfell for a weekend trip), a newsletter from her gym, blog notifications from writers she followed, Margaery inviting her once again to one of her parties (in Storm’s End. She was so bored over there.), and various pieces of junk mail her filter hadn’t caught.

Nothing that couldn’t wait.

She quickly washed, avoiding wetting her hair, knowing it’d stick out far too much after a night on her pillow.

That was a well-rounded life, she thought. It would never be one the songs were made of, or that history would write about, but she allowed herself to be content with another successful event, and an existence that could have been much, much worse.

 

***

 

Mrs. Mormont was distinctly unhappy about the idea of being anywhere near Brienne the next day, even less so in the public place that was the hotel’s restaurant. Somehow, the offered options of a phone conversation or a written report seemed to irk her just as much, regardless of the fact that the organizer had a plane to catch that evening.

For a friendly client, Brienne would have been accommodating. That’s how she kept most of her best customers who, after an initial distrust due to her looks, usually warmed up to her attentive listening and efficiency quite fast.

But for the likes of that lady, she set her boundaries easily, especially when it meant underlining that her clients had little power over her once the event she was working was done.

After threats of complaining to her boss, Mrs. Mormont ended the call in a huff. Mrs. Stark would likely share Brienne’s view of it: while refusal to show up for feedback was not a violation of the contract, it was a lack of professionalism that would not be forgotten.

The flight to Deepwood Motte was spent working on Brienne’s next event - the centenary of White Harbor’s High Sept, though that was still months away. She had already had a meeting with the clients, who had actually been very appreciative of her lack of allure. Even in this age, the clergy tended to still see beauty as sin. At least she had that much going for her.

From the overnight train to Winterfell, she watched first the bold city lights, then the stars revealed in their absence. The budget would have allowed for a direct flight, she knew, but she was not fond of spending money for nothing - even rich people’s - and there was nothing waiting in her apartment but her dying plants. She had thought of getting a pet, but her frequent traveling and irregular schedule made that a challenge. She’d have no one to sit for her when she was away, either.

The North had been her home for nearly three years now, but her social circle was still only made of some coworkers, and the outings were infrequent. The ones that included her, anyway. There was no denying how boring she could be, barely drinking since it had made her flirt awkwardly with one of the bar’s regulars, too aware of her lack of grace to risk a step onto the dance floor, and generally having little to contribute to the chosen topics of conversation.

But she was okay with that. Mostly.

Catelyn Stark had also been very welcoming, inviting her for meals with her populous family. The five children had a soft spot for her - possibly because she happily played with them, carrying the younger ones around until their parents put an end to the commotion. Cat’s husband, Ned, was at the head of the Northern Council, frequently making trips south to the capital to participate in the main government.

He was close to Robert Baratheon, the Prime Minister whose win at the past election, granting him office for the fourth time, had surprised many. Robert had been embroiled in many near-scandals, from cheating on his wife, the daughter of the powerful magnate Tywin Lannister, to getting drunk at public events and once or twice almost getting into fights, all in the past five years. This was promising to be his last term.

While Robert was boisterous and loud, Ned had always been measured, diligent, and righteous, which had often caused conflict with his friend. Though it was always resolved behind closed doors, Ned usually managing to talk sense into him.

The Stark patriarch had initially been a bit wary of Brienne’s influence on their youngest daughter, Arya, who was eight years old when she had first met her. Having been so vocal of her dislike of the frills and ribbons her older sister coveted so much, seeing Brienne’s unapologetically tall frame and her general lack of femininity had only fueled her refusal to submit to the expectations of her gender. She was getting to an age where dressing as a tomboy would be more frowned upon as the daughter of the Head Councillor of the North, and Ned had briefly worried that it might cause problems with the public.

But it hadn’t. The girl had also taken to Brienne’s poise even though she lacked the stature, and watching her abide to the codes of nobility, though not to most of those reserved to women, had encouraged Arya to be more respectful of traditions than she had previously been. Satisfied, Ned had accepted Brienne as warmly as a northman ever could.

It was nearly five in the morning when Brienne finally reached her apartment, half awake from attempting to sleep on the train. She’d have the rest of the day to recover before heading back to the office for a report the next morning. The sun was coming up as she closed the curtains, chewed half a pill of sleep aid, and slipped under the covers of her permanently unmade bed.

 

***

 

Catelyn had her long auburn hair braided when Brienne found her the next morning, something reserved for the days her overworked schedule made more difficult. She had just reached her forties, but the skin around her blue eyes already bore traces of her tireless work as a mother, the owner of a company, and the wife of a politician. And yet, she still had both an effortless beauty and an energy that seemed to defy the laws of physics.

“You survived Mrs. Mormont, I see.” Her smile clearly showed she understood the challenge.

“Barely,” Brienne joked with an eye roll. “I understand why you sent  _ me _ .” She was used to the more difficult clients, presenting an exterior that was understanding or unmovable as needed. Some of her coworkers would have either attempted to yield to most of the lady’s capricious demands, or gone mad with anxiety when they realized it was an impossible task.

“She called me earlier,” Catelyn mentioned off-handedly.

“She said she would.”

This was routine. Some new customers thought so highly of themselves that they tried to get special treatment that seemed to overlook basic logic in most cases. While her boss presented a calm, collected, reasonable front, she was also untreatable when it came to common sense and the respect of her staff.

Brienne made her report, making note that there had been a minor incident backstage involving food spillage, and that the customer’s complaint about wrong notes from the double bass player was unfounded. Overall, the guests had seemed very pleased with the whole event, and she had gleaned some positive comments from the crowd while skulking around the venue.

Satisfied, Catelyn finalized her own notes in her file and they moved on to the centenary to White Harbor’s High Sept.

“The sept was built following the destruction of the Sept of Snows, so I was thinking of inserting a background theme of rebirth,” Brienne started. Her boss was already shaking her head slightly.

“The Faith of the Seven has been extremely strong in White Harbor, and they particularly saw worshippers of the Lord of Light as threats. Rebirth is going to be seen as too close a symbol to that religion, I’m pretty certain.”

“It’s been centuries!”

“You know, people,” Catelyn shrugged. With a sigh, her employee conceded her the point. “We could try to present it as a form of spring, however. From the Sept of Snows, to a more clement and bright era for the city. It’s still basically rebirth, but it’s more likely to be accepted in that form.”

They settled on a few more suggestions to explore and present to the clients - the council of the High Sept - before Brienne returned to her own desk to work on it.

Her space was always neatly organized, partly because she spent a lot more time there than she did at home. Everything she needed was within arm’s reach - the length of hers, not of most people’s - and sorted comprehensively for resources: address books, catalogs for furniture, florists, cutlery, and various other supplies. A history of menus from previous events both for ideas and to ensure diversity in their offers, as they often had repeat customers. 

A filing cabinet full of past events’ files, sorted by year and by client’s name. All of it indexed digitally on the company’s server, with a printed copy updated every year.

A plastic plant greeted her silently as she sat, the vestige of the many live ones she had accidentally killed in her first year. There was a picture of the blue waters of Tarth next to it, the only on her desk, reminding her of her roots. She missed the sea, having lived far inland for three years, but she knew that there would have been little interesting work on the eastern island. Perhaps, when she would be close to retirement, she’d move back.

The fleeting idea of what such a time in her life would look like crosses her mind, only to be pushed away to focus on White Harbor. That was, after all, a city by the water too.


	2. Memories of Storm's End

“Surely there are event planners closer to you?”

“Renly said the same thing! But that’s apparently the only way I will ever get you to visit me here, so that’s worth the little extra,” Margaery answered with an audible wink in her voice.

“I’m not a wedding planner, Marge,” Brienne argued, knowing it was nearly a lost cause. Once her friend had sunk her teeth into an idea, she rarely ever let go.

A scoff. “I’ve seen pictures and videos of the Whitehill wedding you organized last year. It was fantastic!”

“That was a thirty, forty-person event at  _ most _ ! You’re talking about inviting most of the oldest families in Westeros, which is also going to include their entourage. They’re some of the worst people to cater to!” She could see Margaery’s smug smile through the silence on the other end of the line. “It’s insane. You need a seasoned,  _ specialized  _ planner for your wedding. A whole team of them, probably. I’m just not qualified.”

“Oh.” There was an awkward pause. “I’m sorry, I think we misunderstood one another.” Brienne sighed with relief at that, but her friend continued, “ _ I’m _ not the one getting married.”

“You said that Renly - “

“Well, yes,  _ he  _ is.”

That was a shock. They hadn’t talked in a while, but how had it gone from them being the “it” couple to his marrying someone else? “When did you break up?”

“When I caught him having sex with my brother” came as a cheerful answer.

The facepalm that landed on Brienne’s forehead was probably audible through the line.

“It’s fine, Bri, I wasn’t  _ in love _ . They make a super cute couple, too, and it had been going on for long enough that Loras proposed only a month later. Which was yesterday.”

“You wasted no time then.”

She couldn’t help but wonder how Margaery could think that her participation in that wedding was a good idea. There was no way she had not been aware of the  _ severe _ crush she had developed for Renly during her short time in Storm’s End, visiting her friend for the summer before moving on to King’s Landing for courses. He had been such a perfect gentleman, graceful and gentle and apparently genuinely nice to her in front of everyone else.

It had not been much, but for someone used to sneering from every demographic she encountered, it had meant so much.

Him being her best friend’s boyfriend had been a huge reason why she hadn’t been back since. Until now. It still would still make for a very awkward reunion if she showed up to organize his wedding... to his boyfriend.

“Look, Marge,” she said with a sigh. “I’m sorry, but I can’t take that on, it’ll be too much. I just don’t have the experience. I’ll come,” she added quickly when she heard her take a breath to object, “I promise I’ll be there. And you know that I - “

“ - never break a promise, yeah,” her friend finally conceded from the other end of the line. “Fine. But you have to wear a dress.”

“Absolutely not.” There was no animosity in Brienne’s voice. It was a fixed topic in every conversation that involved any kind of public appearance, and at that point she knew that simply not agreeing to it did the trick.

There was some more grumbling from Margaery’s side before Brienne reiterated the promise to show up, and they said goodbye.

“It’s a terrible idea,” Brienne said out loud, witnessed only by her plastic plant. But she had promised. It was in a few months, anyway. She’d have time to get used to the idea.

Receiving the invitation a month later still triggered a chill of anxiety. 

Every conversation she had with her best friend after that, in which she was often asked for advice on various elements of the planning, provoked the very same.

“You can’t take on the Hornwood event,” Catelyn said one summer day with an odd look on her face, visiting Brienne’s desk after she had expressed her wish to plan the fundraiser the following month. 

_ Undue bad feedback? _ She kept her sigh to herself. “Why not?”

“You’re on vacation. Aren’t you going to Storm’s End?”

That, once again, sent a shiver of panic through her. “Right.”

“You should book your flight soon if you haven’t already.”

Brienne sighed, watching her boss’s flowing auburn hair return to her office. She had not, in fact,  bought her tickets yet, and being reminded of the prospect of spending a whole weekend longingly stealing glances at the happy couple made her feel nauseated.

A short search produced the dreaded results: the flights for such a long distance were now ridiculously expensive. For about ten seconds, Brienne hoped that it would be excuse enough to get out the engagement, but she knew better. Margaery would definitely consider that a promise broken.

Reluctantly, she purchased her seats for the journey, from Winterfell to King’s Landing, and from there to Storm’s End. They represented nearly a month of salary, she noted bitterly, not that she was living paycheck to paycheck. Being single and living alone had the advantage of not being very costly, even in a large city like the Northern capital.

Though she was highborn, her family’s modest riches had accustomed her to humbler and somewhat ordinary choices in most spheres of her life. As a good number of the Westerosi high society were still fighting over fancier lodgings for the event, Brienne had no trouble booking a small queen room in a quiet hotel on the outskirts of the city. She neither expected to drink much, nor to leave late, which might perhaps even allow her to take public transportation back after the reception.

She’d have to find something decent to wear for a wedding. That issue would not be one of money, though it would have been easier if she had the funds to get every piece of clothing tailored to her unusual frame. Finding anything else that fit her properly was usually a nightmare.

Margaery had modified and adjusted much of her best friend’s clothing when they had been in Storm’s End years ago, the results so much better than anything Brienne had ever owned since. Perhaps she’d agree to try her hand once more at it with whatever could be found to fit for the event, but as a close sister to one of the grooms, it was doubtful that there would be enough time for it.

Store-bought would have to do.


	3. The Wedding

The flower theme had an obvious enough origin, seeing Loras Tyrell’s family’s long-time connection to Highgarden and its symbols, but Jaime couldn’t help but think this was overkill. A whole wall of the two-story-high ballroom was obscured by a trellis in the shape of a stag’s antlers, covered in various fresh flowers - mostly roses - sending a vaguely nauseating aroma that threatened to overwhelm the weakest of the guests.

He stood at its base, studying it dubiously, wondering how solid the structure was, and how well it was anchored. He had no particular desire to be at the wedding, but perhaps he would get lucky and be crushed under the weight of the two men’s egos.

“People will mock you for the rest of your life if you faint because of the flowers,” a silky voice piped up behind him. He didn’t have to turn to know who it was. “I’m surprised to find you here, dear brother. Didn’t seem your type of event,” Cersei continued as she walked up to stand beside him. He could feel the warmth of her bare arm even through his suit and shirt, though he might have imagined it.

“Yes, well, you always tell me to get out more, sweet sister,” he said as he turned to her. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Tyrion.”

His twin sister didn’t even try to hide the passing look of disgust that deformed her pretty face. “Ugh. He’s here?”

“Of course he is. He’d never miss a party full of free booze. You two are much more alike than you realize.” He knew that the only things preventing her from slapping him were the current audience, and the fact that she had not yet drank enough to stop caring about them. “Speaking of which, where’s your darling husband? Or did he stay home with the nanny?”

The fact of Bobby Baratheon’s infidelities was nothing new, or secret, but it was still somehow an easy way to get his sister into a rage. As she stalked off in the most dignified way she could muster in her state, Jaime hoped that she wouldn’t meet their brother until she’d had a few more drinks to calm down. She was nothing he couldn’t handle, but still.

Back when she had announced the engagement, he had tried to dissuade her. “It’s a great match,” she had insisted, already seeing herself having power and influence and riches. Sure, Robert had been a rising political star, but he was also a lumbering fool who could have been difficult to manipulate.

And sure enough, he had been. In the beginning, some very lucrative contracts had been borne out of that alliance for  Lannister Holdings. But as Bobby’s interest for his temperamental wife waned, so did his receptivity to her father’s suggestions. Tywin Lannister had since turned his eyes elsewhere, leaving Cersei in a loveless marriage that didn’t benefit anyone anymore.

Their father had helped push the match through, and although his daughter was now clearly miserable, he insisted that she remain, quiet and still. Perhaps she would be of further use at some point, he’d argued.

Bitterness had aged her, Jaime thought as he watched her long golden hair sway with her steps. She was still a mesmerizing beauty at thirty-five, as she had always been, but he hadn’t seen light in her green eyes for a long time.

Sighing, he went to take a gulp of the whiskey he was holding, only to find it empty. It would be a terribly long event. Perhaps Tyrion’s running commentary would make it more entertaining.

 

***

 

He finally found his brother perched on a high chair by a pub table alongside the garden, chatting away with a tall, blond person that Jaime initially took for a man. The scene was comical: Tyrion, born with dwarfism, was probably a third of the woman’s height. Though he sported the typical golden hair of his line, his interlocutor’s was paler still, cropped short and clean, nearly reminding of male army standards.

They seemed to get along surprisingly well, considering that she had nothing that the younger Lannister might want: no feminine form to speak of, far from a pretty face, and while she was dressed in something closer to a pantsuit than to suitable wedding wear, clearly she wasn’t working for the event. His brother usually favoured easy, pretty women, or alcohol. She was neither.

Yet, they both laughed - he could hear her from a distance - and she rolled her eyes at what he said with a smile.

Surely there was a plan there.

Having nothing else to do, Jaime ambled towards them, grabbing two drinks from a passing server as he went. If that plan was to charm, he could easily help.

She spotted him first, and Jaime could tell in that instant that he had very few chances at succeeding in dazzling her. She now stood straight when she had been relaxed a moment earlier, and her striking blue eyes were now wary when they had been laughing.

Up close, she was actually kind of ugly. Her lips were surprisingly too full, on a mouth too wide for her face. The nose still bore marks of a few breaks that had not been set by a doctor. While her deep gaze remained her only grace, her eyes were a bit too big, too.

All of it, set on pale skin completely peppered with freckles, coupled with her broad shoulders and the mannish frame of her whole body, made her almost look like a caricature.

Jaime smiled easily as he reached the table, offering the second drink he held to the lady. She looked at him with suspicion as Tyrion greeted him.

“There you are! I’ve seen Cersei and she’s already in a foul mood, I knew you couldn’t be far. Lady Brienne, this is my brother, Jaime. Jaime, this is - “

“Brienne,” the woman interrupted. “I’m highborn, but not a lady.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Brienne,” Jaime offered, setting down the extra drink she hadn’t accepted and extending a hand. When she took it after some hesitation, he brought it back to his lips for a swift baisemain. He amused himself with her blush, having never seen anyone get so red, so quickly. She excused herself in a mumbled apology, and fled before Tyrion could apologize on his behalf.

“You’re an idiot,” he chided Jaime as he drank from the extra glass. “We were having a completely innocent conversation about whichever cretins organized this event.”

“That sounds fascinating,” Jaime replied in a bored drawl.

“It was, actually. And it was an excellent networking opportunity as well.”

“Really? Are you planning on having a wedding anything soon?” The thought was amusing. While he looked odd to most people, Tyrion had the kind of charisma that got him just about any woman he liked into bed. And he liked a  _ lot _ of them.

“Of course not, don’t be daft. She says she doesn’t really do weddings, actually, but she does organize events. We both agreed that this was going terribly so far, what with the parking issues, lodging problems and the staff that is definitely not used to this kind of crowd. She told me how she instinctively checked every bouquet for freesias, after a customer of hers went berserk when she thought she saw one,” he finished with a chuckle.

“You sound smitten.”

Another gulp. “Definitely not my type, but she’s something. I fear our sweet sister will make her evening miserable once she’s in her cups, though. You know Cersei.”

“Always one for an easy target. Yep.”

 

***

 

The lady proved to be quite effective at hiding in dark corners, Jaime found. Or rather didn’t find, as he lost sight of her until the ceremony. She had been sitting on the Tyrell side of the aisle, next to a very pretty brunette who looked like one of the grooms. The blonde worked very hard to keep a neutral expression, while her friend seemed to sigh in adoring happiness at every cute gesture or word either man offered the other at the altar.

He was himself in the Baratheon section, as a brother-in-law of said groom’s brother. Stuck between a giggling-drunk sibling and a scowling-drunk one, he had been staring at all the floral arrangements in the area, trying to count how many roses he could find - over a hundred - before trying to see if he could spot any freesias.

After extensive declarations of love, vows and uselessly long testimonies from friends and family members - the brunette was Loras’s sister, it turned out - the happy couple had finally been married. In the chaos of everyone cheering on the newlyweds walking back down the aisle with sickeningly happy smiles, Brienne had managed to disappear completely from the crowd. Quite a feat for someone of her bulk, though Jaime knew he would probably be able to succeed at it as well if he tried. He let himself be swept away by the wave of guests moving after the grooms towards the reception area, figuring he could find his way from there.

Bobby Baratheon cornered him before he could find something better to do, spending nearly forty minutes drunkenly complaining about his wife, who glared at them both from the other side of the room. The longer it went on, Jaime knew, the angrier she would be at her husband, and he could slip away from her wrath relatively unscathed. Another one for the tabloids.

Once he did make his escape, he found himself bored again, spying Tyrion in seductive discussion with a long-legged, black-haired beauty who would have spelt heartbreak for weaker men. 

A few pretty women tried to get him to dance before he scurried away to a quieter spot. He was a Lannister, that was both obvious and known; he was also the favoured heir to Tywin, and he had long understood that despite his reputation, that was the main point of interest for most of the women who tried to approach him. Or so he liked to believe. 

He had gone through all of his usual news sites, social media, game apps on his phone and was about to give up when he finally caught a glimpse of a high blond head skulking along the wall towards the garden. Figuring she would be the most entertainment the evening could provide, he followed suit, only to swiftly turn around when Cersei reached his target before he could.

Cursing himself for his cowardice, he managed to get close enough to listen, but not to be seen by either women.

“So, you must be a friend of the groom? Either one of them,” his sister slurred with barely veiled disdain. The silence on the other end made Jaime look, and he had to refrain from laughing at Brienne’s bewildered expression.

“One of their queer little friends?” Cersei insisted, annoyed. “Anyway. I imagine this must be quite an occasion for you to hang out with high society. Don’t expect to find yourself a... match, though. Most people around here don’t have that kind of... proclivity.”

She really did lose all kinds of filters when she was drunk, he thought angrily. He was about to interject when Brienne spoke up.

“Mrs. Baratheon,” she started amicably, and Jaime had an inkling that she knew it would rile up her adversary. “I apologize, I don’t think we were properly introduced. Brienne Tarth, daughter of Selwyn. I think our fathers went to King’s Landing College together. Mine does recall that time fondly. How is Tywin?”

He smiled at the sneer on his sister’s face, who turned away without saying anything more. Brienne didn’t seem to have expected an answer, and she watched her leave with a small satisfied smirk. It was ironic that, built as she was, she had opted to ‘kill her with kindness,’ but Jaime was appreciative nonetheless.

He let Brienne walk a bit farther away before following her. She had reversed course and was now inching subtly towards the coat check. He feared that she might bolt before he got a chance to speak to her again. She was briefly stopped when a gaggle of giggling women settled in front of her, and he almost literally jumped at the chance. 

Jaime’s first instinct was to lean over her shoulder to speak into her ear, but she seemed jittery enough at that point to squarely shoulder his jaw, by accident or by design. Instead he kept a step behind her, calling out quietly but clearly, “Have you found any freesias?”

The start was noticeable along her spine, and she turned to him with a warning glare that was quickly coloured by a blush when she saw who had spoken to her.

“I haven’t spotted any myself,” he continued, “and I did have a good amount of free time. Does it seem like the event planner got at least  _ that _ right?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Brienne replied coldly, tiredness tinting her voice. “I wasn’t told what the instructions from the clients were.”

“Ah, fair enough,” he conceded with a charming smile. “What would  _ you _ have recommended?”

“Mostly not this,” she said quietly, shrugging. “But again, I don’t know what the clients requested. In the end, it’s their day.” A hint of bitterness seeped through at that, and she had an awkward smile before turning and trying to escape.

“So which one did you have a crush on?” he asked as he stepped in her way. The scowl he received in response was almost scalding.

“Excuse me?”

“You seemed pretty sad to be here today, mostly when you looked at the happy couple. You were sitting with the sister of one of the grooms, so you were probably personally invited. Can’t imagine why else you wouldn’t be excited for them to tie the knot.” Her whole body was tense, and Jaime half-expected her to punch him. Regretting riling her up so much, he shrugged and tried to ease up on his teasing. “I mean, I don’t blame you, they’re both fine-looking men.”

“They certainly are. They’re also not assholes about it,” she let out, before shouldering her way past him. She was as tall as he was, and had probably had fewer drinks, and ended up managing to grab her coat and exit before he could reach her again through the crowd.

He watched her go with a sigh. That had been less entertaining and much shorter than he had hoped.

“Jaime Lannister!” The admonishing tone came from a voice he wasn’t familiar with, and he found himself facing the brunette he had just mentioned to Brienne. “Did you just run off my best friend?”

“Funny you should say that, miss,” he smiled. “I was actually curious about the lady.” She gave him an unimpressed frown. “Surely there is no one better informed than a woman’s best friend?”

Her inquisitive brown eyes ran him up and down without the usual interest it produced. “There is  _ no way _ I’m telling you  _ anything _ about Brienne. You’ve got ‘BAD NEWS’ written all over your forehead.” 

While she seemed serious, there was something about her demeanour that invited a challenge. She wouldn’t let any secrets out, he knew, but he might be able to coax some praise for her friend out of her.

“I should definitely get that checked then,” he agreed, “but I was told she plans events like this. I might know a few people who would be interested in - “

“Save it,” she interrupted, holding a perfectly manicured hand to his face. “She’s not hurting for work, first, and she operates out of Winterfell. She refused to organize the wedding because she was too far, and didn’t have the time.”

“That is a shame. She seemed to have plenty of great ideas for the occasion.”

“Yes, well, wouldn’t have been difficult to beat how this turned out,” the brunette conceded quietly. “But she had other commitments. So I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”

He nodded gravely. “Understood. I’m sorry, your name was?”

“Margaery Tyrell,” she said, offering a hand. As he lifted her hand to kiss it, in true noble fashion, she had a smirk. “Aah, so  _ you’re _ the idiot who did that to her.” He feigned surprise. “A word of advice, Mr. Lannister: when a woman like Brienne tells you she’s not a lady, as surely she will have, you don’t try this highborn crap on her. That’s disrespectful.”

“What was I to do? Shake her hand?” he asked with a laugh.

“Yes. Don’t expect to be able to do that anymore though, she’ll probably avoid you like the plague from now on. Enjoy your evening,” she finished with a wide smile, rejoining the festivities.

“Brienne Tarth, daughter of Selwyn,” he recalled from her exchange with Cersei. “Winterfell. Don’t kiss her hand. Got it,” he muttered to himself, before calling a cab while waiting to get his coat. He’d probably find out everything interesting about her by the time he reached his hotel room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting schedule will be 2 chapters a week from here on, on Wednesdays and Sundays. So you can spend nearly as much time on this story as I did :D I'm nice that way.


	4. Black Betha

Life returned to approximate normality following Brienne’s return from Storm’s End, though for many weeks she received calls enquiring about organizing weddings. She had unwittingly been caught in pictures taken by the biggest Westerosi tabloids, and Winterfell’s clients had assumed that she had had part in the planning.

The actual organizers, a large company from Goldengrove in the Tyrell’s native Reach, had even contacted her thinking she was attempting to claim their work as hers. She assured them that every single person who came to her with such assumptions was personally, promptly and unequivocally disabused. They seemed satisfied with her answer.

Brienne was happy to put the whole thing past her, even if Catelyn seemed to think her staunch refusal to do weddings was a bad professional move. That was simply stress she didn’t need. Regular events like gallery openings or fundraisers were usually taxing, but weddings were supposed to be two people’s best day of their lives. She handled pressure well, but she had enough work not to take on that kind of unnecessary tension.

Her irregular schedule resumed quickly. 

She took charge of a soirée in Raventree Hall, in a rare excursion out of the North some four months later, on the occasion of the eighteenth birthday of a relative of Catelyn’s. Her family had their seat in the Riverlands, and wanting both to provide help for the event and fully participate in it, Mrs. Stark had delegated the planning to Brienne.

It was a nice change of pace, and of scenery. Though winter had arrived in all of Westeros, it was already much greener when one reached the Trident. Winterfell had always been grey, both in its paysages and in the darkness that the earlier sunset brought. Perhaps that would slow down the melancholy that usually came with the darker months.

The girl they were celebrating, a shy auburn-haired lady by the name of Betha, had insisted on deciding from the themes Brienne proposed. An easy one - that the mother favoured - had been spring, but Betha refused it on the grounds that it made her sound like a seed ripe for planting. Another had been blue ribbons and fish, symbolizing her homeland, but she looked unenthused by the idea. 

When a winter ball proved as uninteresting, Brienne had bitten her lip as the mother tried to coax her daughter into making her preferred choice. There was another suggestion, though it was quite unconventional...

“Have you...” she began, hesitating, as both ladies turned their eyes to her. Betha looked disappointed, and she feared adding to it. “Have you heard of Black Betha?” The disapproving look she received from the mother only fueled the light she saw in the daughter’s eyes.

“She was a queen, wasn’t she?”

Brienne nodded. “She was a Blackwood of Raventree Hall, even, and she married Aegon Targaryen  the Fifth, the Unlikely. They married for love, too, which was not common for a royal couple at the time, and she had political standing during his reign.”

The way Betha now looked at her, she knew her target audience was hooked. Her lady mother’s mouth had turned into a thin line, and she wasted no time in expressing her objections. 

“I don’t think this is suitable. This celebration is supposed to properly introduce you to society, not to bring back some old stories - “

“Exactly, mom. What better way than to present myself as a famed queen? She had influence, too. That’s the kind of woman I aspire to be.”

Brienne had to lower her head so that her smile wouldn’t be too obvious, and it only grew when Betha countered all of her mother’s arguments after that. Composing a more neutral expression, she offered suggestions for the decoration, menu and activities for the party, much to the girl’s delight.

The following week, she received the guestlist for the event. They had already agreed on the model of invitations and run a test print, so all she needed to do was make certain that all names were spelled correctly before sending them to the printer.

Somehow, her eyes came to rest on a specific one: Jaime Lannister.

That was odd. Lannisters were not known to keep much with the Riverlands folks, so for one of them to be personally invited to an eighteen-year-old’s birthday was quite out of the ordinary.

Though at thirty-five years of age, still single, he did represent a desirable match for just about anyone. While Brienne doubted that anyone would seriously hope for Betha to strike his fancy, even pretty as she was, there would still be a good number of single guests from various eminent families from the area.

Chances that he would show up, however, were pretty low. He probably received such invitations at that rate of a dozen per month.

Shrugging, she went through the rest of the list, correcting Catelyn’s name - Catlyn. Really? - before sending it off, and ticking the task as completed in her file.

 

***

 

The party was a resounding success.

As an eighteenth birthday was quite an occasion, all of Betha’s schoolmates had been invited. Brienne had seen their uncertain expressions as they entered the hall of the venue, unsure of the accuracy or relevance of their own garb as they took in the regal decorations laid out before them. 

She had had the opportunity to chat further with the young lady, and had been informed that while she had no ill standing with anyone, she was far from a social butterfly. The awe on her peers’ faces, as they discovered the historically royal theme, let Brienne hope that the event might change that for the best.

Each guest was greeted with a parchment roll offering a tidbit of information on someone having shared the same name, either given or from their family tree. Bonus points if the person referenced had been a woman of high standing or of notable achievements.

A mock joust was organized, in which Betha’s lady friends seemed particularly keen on competing, happily bashing at the boys with foam swords and spears. The winner, a skinny boy by the name of Brynden who had used his unassuming size to undermine all of his opponents, was given a rose from the birthday girl, and allowed to sit at her side for the feast.

She had used a temporary dye to turn her auburn hair almost black, much to her mother’s horror. That had conferred her a more mature look, however, and the young lady had been quite pleased with it. She was, after all, celebrating her coming of age.

While historically-themed costumes had not been mandatory, a surprising number of older guests had actually decided to join in, and Brienne was quite happy to hear many exchange anecdotes about their forebears.

Jaime Lannister, heir to Lannister Holdings and one of the most eligible and shady bachelors on the continent, had actually deigned to show up. He strode in nonchalantly, his tall, broad frame immediately garnering the attention he was no doubt used to. His short blond hair was almost carelessly swept to the side - the sort of effortless look handsome people always had. The charming smile on his lips provoked blushes and inane cooing from the women, though she was forced to admit that he looked damn good in his casual attire. 

She had quietly slunk further in the backstages of the event the moment she spotted him, determined to avoid a repeat of Renly’s wedding. This was her territory, and she was working. He would be sternly told off if he tried anything. 

He didn’t seem to pursue her, however, spending most of the evening engaged in discussion with the father of the birthday girl, after paying his respects to the lady herself. He slightly raised his glass in salutation when his dazzling green eyes caught her gaze later in the night, but didn’t attempt to come talk to her.

She gave a curt nod in return, hoping without much illusion that it would keep at that. When men like him took interest in women like her, it was never out of the goodness of their hearts.

Slowly, as the guests started to trickle out at the end of the event, Brienne began her usual tour to garner feedback from her staff. Everything had gone especially well, which she was able to convey to a quite satisfied Catelyn as she briefly joined her. Feeling rather proud of herself, she returned to overseeing people’s departures.

She was startled when a pair of arms cinched her waist from her side, discovering Betha, flushed from having danced and drank a bit. “Thank you, so, SO much for this, Brienne! It was perfect!”

“I am so glad you liked it, my lady,” she replied with a short bow. She watched the young woman walk away, tugging her shy champion after her. Surely her mother would not be happy about that, but she felt that Betha had found a good grasp on her aspirations, and was not like to let go anytime soon.

“I have to say, I’m impressed.”

Just like last time, there was some distance between herself and the voice that spoke up behind her. She didn’t have to turn to know who it belonged to, though she almost did so out of instinct. Instead, she took a deep breath, trying to slow down the flush that was sure to creep up from her neck.

“The personalized historical info was a nice touch. That must have been a lot of work - “ Jaime tried to continue, walking up to her side.

“It was. I’ll be sure to pass on your compliment to the student I hired to do the research.” She kept her eyes on the guests, smiling and nodding as they saluted her.

“Please do. Although I was a bit sad not to find out anything new about my own family. Gerion Lannister’s quest to return Brightroar to the Rock is included in most history books.”

“I did instruct him to keep to positive achievements. I suppose the list was a bit less varied for your house.”

Though she still hadn’t looked at him, she could feel his piercing gaze on her, and refused to acknowledge the heat rising to her face.

“You seemed to get along quite well with my brother at Renly’s wedding.”

She cleared her throat. “He’s a very intelligent man.”

“Is that the kind of men you’re interested in?”

She had walked right into that one. Facing him, she looked at him square in the eyes, which were level with hers, and seemed to be both defiant and laughing at her. “I’m not interested in any men.”

Though at first he frowned in confusion, understanding dawned on his face pretty quickly, and panic seized her. That was  _ not  _ what she had meant. She turned away from him, cursing herself, and almost corrected herself before realizing that, really, it didn’t matter what he thought.

“Goodnight, Mr. Lannister.” Walking away without a backward glance, she barely heard him reply ‘goodnight’ before she managed to disappear into the kitchen. Taking a minute to compose herself, she returned to supervising the cleaning process, hoping her heart would slow back down to a normal rate quickly enough.

“I don’t know, Mr. Lannister,” she later ranted out loud, alone in her hotel shower. “I’ve yet to meet enough intelligent men to form a general opinion. If you see any, please point them in my direction.” She grumbled through washing her hair, drying herself, putting lotion on her skin, and putting on pajamas.

When she woke up the next morning, she had the vague impression of having spent the whole night arguing with golden-haired men wearing various medieval costumes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this later than I expected -_-
> 
> Next update on Sunday!


	5. Unplanned meeting

 

Jaime was a regular at the city planning office by now, preferring to inquire about permits himself since an intern had racked up a huge fine for a small paperwork error. Though Kingsguard was far from a debuting firm in the architecture industry, its shareholders had not been keen on losing money in such a foolish manner.

And so, in order to prevent both mistakes and the firing of hopeful young people, Jaime had gone out of his way to make certain everything was submitted properly.

He knew Jeyne, the receptionist, and Jon, the security agent. Those two gave him the stink eye almost without fail, but Walder, Alerie, and Ravella were generally quite pleased to see him. Walder acted as if they were buddies, which was probably because of Jaime’s notoriety as the Lannister heir; it was annoying but sometimes came in handy. The women had easily let themselves be charmed by his well-practiced charisma.

Those were the three who usually rotated at the permits counter, but that February morning, it wasn’t Walder’s or Ravella’s dark hair behind the window, and not Alerie’s outrageous red mane. He could only see some blond from a head bent over the desk as he approached, then broad shoulders that seemed oddly familiar.

Jaime knocked gently on the counter as he reached it, already sporting a winning smile. Deep blue eyes quickly turning icy shocked it off his face, however, and he found himself looking at Brienne. He had not seen her in nearly eight months, though after the tragedy in Winterfell, he hadn’t really expected to. 

“Good morning. How can I help you?”

Was she really going to pretend they didn’t know one another? The thought displeased him more than he expected, though he was certain she would give him the best possible service - within the limitations of the rules, no doubt.

“Hi. I would like to request a permit for renovations and remodelling on a residential building.” She opened her big mouth to object, but he beat her to it. “ _ Permits _ , sorry. One for each, both for the same building.”

He had prepared envelopes with the necessary documents for both applications. This was routine, and he would be damned if she managed to find a fault in his paperwork.

She worked silently at her monitor for a moment before addressing him again, though without looking up. “I will need some information for the form. Name?”

He had been expected rigorous rule-following, but this was ridiculous. Jaime stared at her with a cocked eyebrow for an uncomfortable, silent moment, until she looked up. His “Really?” expression did little to impress her, though he did notice the blush creeping up her freckled neck.

“I am going to need your name for the application, sir.”

Satisfied that he would manage to get at least a slight rise out of her, he answered with a sigh. “Lannister, Jaime. With two N’s,” he added for effect. The blush kept its course, now topped with a frown.

“Can you confirm your address of residence?”

He feigned worry. “They never ask me for that,” he argued. It was true. They also never asked him for his name. 

A deep breath, and Brienne’s face set into one of her neutral customer service expressions. “I already have the information in your file, sir, I just need to confirm your account.”

The winning smile made a return, and he decided to take pity on her, reciting his apartment’s full address clearly.

“Thank you. What is the location of the building you’re seeking permits for?”

“The Gerold Mansion on Visenya’s Hill, number 12 on Septons’ Avenue.” He let a beat pass as she typed in the information, and then let curiosity get the better of him. “So, how did you end up here? Last I heard you were organizing fundraisers in the Northlands. It’s a long way from there to a municipal office in King’s Landing.”

“It is indeed.” She didn’t offer anything else, not that he had expected much more.

The sudden death of her employer was understandably still a sore subject. At the end of the previous summer, the best part of the Stark properties had been destroyed, in what was attributed to wildfire following a particularly dry season. Ned and Catelyn Stark had died along with their eldest son, trying to help neighbours and employees.

The event had made the news worldwide. Perhaps he should have opened with condolences, but Brienne didn’t look amenable to receiving any right now.

“I see that the building is protected - “

“As part of the historical trust, yes,” Jaime interrupted. “I have all of the documentation here,” he said as he handed her both of the large kraft envelopes he had brought, “including a letter from the board approving the plans. Everything is in order according to the requirements of annexes for the application.”

It  _ was _ routine.

“I see.” She took the envelopes, reaching for the printouts she’d just made of the forms. Placing blue X’s on each, she handed them to him with a pen. “Please sign the two lines on each document.”

The blush had faded a bit by now, probably due to the fact that he’d stopped teasing her. He took a few seconds to look at her covertly as she busied herself with her computer, while he pretended to read the sheets over. 

Her pale hair was a bit longer than he remembered, but he doubted that she ever let it get to a feminine length. She didn’t look as tired as on their previous encounters, but she also didn’t look as much in her  _ element _ as she had been then either.

Had the Starks’ deaths ruined her career? He couldn’t imagine that it had. She seemed to have had a good enough reputation on her own to sustain independent employment if it came to that, but he had trouble conceiving that she wouldn’t have found any agency to take her on in King’s Landing. The move to a nicer climate and a larger pool of potential work opportunities made sense, but the change in direction didn’t.

Jaime finished signing the forms after a quick look over their contents, out of habit, and handed them back under Brienne’s serious gaze.

“Thank you. An engineer will review the documents and contact you with their decision within seven work days. If the permits are approved, you will be able to retrieve them from this office on the next open day. If they are denied, you will be able to request appeals at that time.” 

She held out two printed receipts that he took with reverence, tempted to mock the unnecessary formality, considering his experience with the process.

“Was there anything else I could help you with?” she asked with what seemed to be a hint of wariness in her tone, and her gaze said she was almost ready to take a stand against whatever challenge he might throw at her.  _ That looks exhausting. _

“No, that was all. Thank you,” he finished with a nod. She replied with a simple ‘good day’ and stood to gather his envelopes and bring them to the engineers’ office. Her height was as impressive for a woman as he remembered, as was her bulk, but she seemed a lot less confident in the space that she was taking. She wasn’t born to be at the top of the food chain, as clearly she never had that ambition, but she was meant for more of a  _ leading _ position than a  _ clerk _ .

“You look well,” he heard himself call out just before she walked out from her cubicle. She turned around with a puzzled glance, as if she expected an insult to follow. When he simply had an awkward smile, she had frowned slightly and left from view.

_ Well _ .

The whole journey back to his office was plagued with the nagging thought that something wasn’t quite right, with another side of him desperately arguing that it wasn’t his concern. She had been entertainment to him at soirées which would have otherwise been much more painful, but that was it. The tribulations of Brienne Tarth were probably less riveting than the back of a cereal box. Even the ones that didn’t have puzzles.

At some point in the afternoon, while reviewing plan modifications requested by a client, the realization hit that he felt somewhat sorry for her. Worse, what needled him most was the feeling that she deserved better than to have anyone pity her.

“Please tell me you’re calling to inform me that Cersei has decided to commit herself to a mental institution,” Tyrion said in lieu of a greeting when he picked up Jaime’s call in the early evening. 

There was no love lost between his siblings, but that was a bit extreme.

“Now why would she do that?” Jaime asked with a sigh. 

Not that he wanted to know, or get in between the two of them. He’d spent most of his life trying to appease each side in their perennial conflict, to no avail, and the past few years actively avoiding Cersei’s drama. His mind having wrestled with thoughts of Brienne’s situation all day, he had very little energy left to play referee in yet another fight.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it,” Tyrion gloated. “She chucked a plate at her dear husband’s head in the middle of The Stag. His own meal, mind you. From what I hear, it was a great waste of a perfectly good roasted b - “

“When was that?” Jaime interrupted. He’d told her to get a divorce years ago. Why she still hung onto him while she had a very good reason - many of them, actually - to leave was still beyond him.

“Earlier this evening. She missed, of course, though not by much. No charges were pressed, but it’s been making the rounds all over the internet since seconds after it happened.”

There was little for Jaime to do about it. If her twin called, she’d simply pour her anger and bitterness at him without listening to any suggestion he might have, and then accuse him of doing nothing to help. The rest was PR, which would be handled by Robert’s team as inexpertly as they always did when it came to the Prime Minister’s personal problems. 

_ Their father _ would be displeased about her making such a scene in public. She had insisted on retaining the Lannister name when she’d married Baratheon, and Tywin had warned her that as such she would be expected to uphold their family’s standards in behaviour.

Which clearly, she wasn’t.

Jaime sighed as he flopped on the leather sofa of his apartment. “Well, I suppose that’ll be something more for you to bring up whenever you see her next,” he said, at a loss for anything else to comment.

“I do enjoy the variety she’s providing,” Tyrion agreed. “But you apparently didn’t call me to talk about that, so you must be in need of something.”

The older brother cringed, knowing how it sounded. It wasn’t untrue, he had been busy enough in the past few... years, that he rarely ever called anyone just to chat. He’d never been good with small talk.

“I - “ He thought of protesting, but quickly realized it was pointless. “Do you remember Brienne Tarth, from Renly’s wedding?”

“She’s hard to forget,” the dwarf chuckled. Mewling sounds of protest were made in the background, and Jaime almost asked if he was calling at a bad time, before thinking  better of it. He didn’t want to know that, either.

If there was a way to frame his request in a way that wouldn’t sound suspicious to his brother, he didn’t know it. “I... recently saw her working at the city planning office of River Row, and I was wondering how she ended up there. I thought you might be able to find out,” he tried to explain as innocently as he could.

There was a short silence at the other end of the line, then, “Have you tried asking her?”

“Of course I did. She refused to say anything.”

“How about you respect her decision not to share that information with you?”

That made Jaime sound crass, but he knew that Tyrion was less scrupulous than that. “I was just surprised to see she wasn’t doing events anymore, even with the Stark’s thing, I just wanted to make sure she was okay,” he fumbled. That would be convincing.

“Uh huh. Well, obviously she’s got a job, so that’s a good start. City job too, she’ll have benefits and probably job security after a short while. Yep, she seems to be doing okay. Now if you’ll excuse me - “

“Come on,” Jaime pleaded. “You know what I mean. If she needs help getting back in the business, I know - “

“You know people, sure. Why would you want to help, though? You seemed a lot more interested in mocking her than anything else, last I remember. I even caught wind of a story according to which, you actually showed up uninvited at one of her events to do just that.”

“I was with a client! He invited me along at the last minute, as a plus-one, to that fundraiser. I had no idea she had organized it, and I even made a sizable donation.” Most of that was true. After his initial research on Brienne, he  _ had _ suspected who would most like to put together an event of that size in Moat Cailin.

“Right. What do you care how she’s doing now anyway? Or is that guilt needling at you for stalking her?

“If I say it is, will you just shut up and look into it?” A fool’s hope.

“My, my, aren’t we rude,” Tyrion tsked. “You just said you know people: ask  _ them _ . Or call again once you’ve learned some manners, brother.”

Jaime attempted to protest at the silence that followed, but the dial tone indicated he was speaking to no one.

Irritated, he flung the cellphone to the other end of the sofa, happily watching it bounce from the force of the throw and fall of onto the floor. One of  _ those _ nights.

He peered out of the balcony doors, down at the illuminated city skyline, feeling as though the rest of the evening didn’t hold much interest. He missed the stars, the actual celestial bodies and not the miserable celebrities who orbited his life. To whom he might have to reach out to get what he wanted.

Fishing back for his phone, he started scrolling through his contacts. Who would be most likely to know what had happened to Brienne Tarth? 

_ Baratheon, Renly _ caught his eye.

_ There is  _ no way _ I’m telling you  _ anything _ about her, _ Margaery Tyrell had said. _ You’ve got ‘BAD NEWS’ written all over your forehead. _

While there was probably no way to make her best friend reconsider, he might still be able to weasel information out of Brienne’s social circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you might have been confused: there has been a nearly one-year jump since last chapter. This is normal. The Moat Cailin fundraiser is not detailed in this story. Let it just be known that before the Winterfell tragedy, Jaime went to lot more stalker-y :3
> 
> (if you're confused about anything else, please do ask!)
> 
> Next update is Wednesday!


	6. Services offered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty short one, sorri :3

**** There were very few things or people that Brienne hoped to see when her shift finished, and Jaime Lannister definitely wasn’t one of them. Leaning against the lamp post nearest to the city planning office’s entrance, he was sipping on a cardboard coffee cup when she exited the building.

“You’ve resorted to physical stalking now?”

To his credit, he cringed a bit at the accusation. How he imagined his poking around her contacts wouldn’t get back to her, she couldn’t fathom.

“I wasn’t... stalking. I was enquiring,” he tried to justify, holding out a second cup in her general direction. “And I knew you wouldn’t want to discuss personal matters at work, so I was waiting for an opportunity to talk to you in another setting.”

Ignoring the cup, she squinted at him. “Oh, but for you, Mr. Lannister, I would make an exception,” she started, and he had a surprised smile. “I would not discuss personal matters at  _ any _ time.” He rolled his eyes, though he seemed amused.

She could happily have left at that point, but she was concerned that he might try to follow her to her car. She didn’t fear for her physical safety - she was probably as strong as he was, and  _ that _ kind of creep usually went for prey easily subdued - but he seemed intent enough on gaining information on her.

“I’m merely trying to help,” he admonished, as if she was a silly child.

“How generous of you. Thank you, but no. Goodbye.” She turned around, decided on walking around the block to lose him, if necessary. 

“I know you’re trying to foster the Stark girls,” she heard him call out after only a few steps. Instinctively, she froze, cursing herself for playing into his game.

But she hadn’t told anyone. Not Marge, not her dad, not even Sansa and Arya, the girls in question. The situation was delicate enough that Jaime’s meddling could easily ruin everything, so she would  _ have _ to deal with him.

Keeping her back to him, she spoke up. “What about it?”

“I just don’t understand why,” he said, and she was displeased to find his voice growing closer. “They’re living with their aunt, so they’re with family and not lacking anything. Why would you want to move them from that?”

Did he actually want to know? What did he care? “I’m just offering an alternative, should they want one.”

She warily watched him round up in front of her, cursing herself further for the blush she felt creeping up her neck. His charming smile almost felt like a threat, which would have been easy to take on; but everything from the waves of his blond hair to the golden lines of his jaw only reminded her of past humiliations. She did her best to keep her expression composed into annoyance as he studied her.

“How would you know that anyway? I haven’t told anyone,” she asked when he kept quiet. 

“Oh, I have a friend working at social services,” he let out lightly. “Told me you asked about the requirements for fostering children, and if the kids had any say in who cared for them. From there, I just looked up what had happened to the remaining Stark kids.” 

Having been a numerous bunch, the children had been divided in two pairs. The youngest, Bran and Rickon, had moved in with their uncle Benjen Stark in Queenscrown, north of Winterfell. Arya and Sansa had gone to the Vale to live with their aunt’s family.

“I’d have thought you’d go for the boys first,” Jaime continued when she didn’t reply, “since they’re so far north, to bring them closer to their sisters. But then I noticed who Lysa is now married to. Do you think Petyr Baelish has some kind of vested interest in having the girls there?”

Just hearing the name sent an unpleasant shiver through her. Petyr Baelish had been an old friend of Catelyn’s, and Brienne had met him on many occasions. Though he had never done anything overtly reprehensible, that she knew of, there was an impression of dishonesty that was deep enough for her not to ignore.

Apparently, Jaime felt it too. His eyes had hardened a bit, and the idea that Baelish might be using children seemed to anger him. That was strangely attractive.

“Something like that,” she ventured, shaking off the feeling. While that animosity towards the man put them on the same side, he was still Jaime Lannister.

“Well, I’d like to help,” he offered once again.

“Why?” That was a question he still hadn’t answered.

“Do I need a reason to do the right thing? And generally, what gets into Baelish’s way tends to be the right thing,” he added with a smirk.

She considered him for a moment. “I’ll be fine,” she decided, walking around him to go her way. He grabbed her arm as she passed him, stopping her, and earned a glare for it.

Holding up his hands in peace, Jaime fished into his jacket for a card and a pen. “This is my cellphone number,” he explained as he jotted it down, “just call me if there’s anything I can do? If you need a lawyer, or something.” 

He offered it with a pleading look, and she had to fight not to roll her eyes. “Sure,” she replied, taking the card. _ A million women would kill for that number _ , she thought. “Didn’t realize you’d gone to law school.”

“Har har,” he said with no humour. “You know what I mean.”

“You mean that you can buy anything with your family’s money.”

“My money. And not anything, but yes. I have means you don’t have access to, and I could facilitate things.”

“Isn’t Baelish a friend of your brother-in-law?”

He squinted slightly at that. Had she hit a nerve?

“The company Bobby keeps is of little business to me.”

“Why would you go against a friend of your family?”

“Because it’s fun to antagonize assholes?”

“I’m not sure I trust the help of someone who finds it  _ fun  _ to antagonize anyone,” she said as she held the card back to him.

Jaime threw his head back with a groan of despair, and when it took him a few seconds too many to compose himself, Brienne reached to put the card back into a front pocket of his coat.

Straightening, he quickly stopped her hand. “Look,” he started, clearly trying to calm himself down, “I’m sorry for messing with you before. I got carried away with what I thought was harmless teasing,” he explained, disregarding her dubious expression. “Clearly I was wrong. This is actually me trying to do something nice, and no, I’m not getting all that much from it. I’m also not looking to publicize it,” he preempted when she seemed suspicious, “I just have the means to help and I’m offering them to you. And the girls,” he finished.

For a moment she felt like flicking the card at his face, but taking it and pretending she might call was easier.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Thank you.” She turned around and walked away, turning the corner just in time to hear, to her relief, a distant “you’re welcome”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime is so chivalrous, right? :D
> 
> Next chapter on Sunday!


	7. Child Services

“I’m just not certain that you have the means to support two children,” Mrs. Florent whined sympathetically. “They are doing quite well with their aunt and uncle, too. Perhaps I can interest you in taking an older child from the King’s Landing foster system...”

She droned on about the dozens of kids hoping for a stable home in the larger metropolitan area, and Brienne felt genuinely guilty about being so resolute to get the Stark daughters. 

But she had made a promise.

To Catelyn, mere weeks before the fire that had broken her mentor’s family. It had been an odd request, on a Thursday night after a bout of playful wrestling with the kids. Their mother had watched them all with tenderness and, looking back, with some sadness. Once Brienne had rejoined the adults, Cat had commented on their special relationship.

“They look up to you,” she had stated with affection.

“I’m much taller. They also enjoy using me as a horse,” Brienne had countered with a laugh. The younger ones weighed nothing in her arms.

“That too. But they trust you not to let them fall and get hurt,” the lady had added. “You take good care of them. I would entrust you with their lives, if it ever came to that.”

In the social services offices, Brienne was almost once again overcome by the same mix of pride and humility at the thought of those words, even half a year later. She’d never seen herself as anything resembling the Mother, and she had had such high esteem for Catelyn. That had been a stamp of deep, sacred trust seared into her heart.

And sometimes hurt almost as much as if it really had been.

“I would do anything to protect them, if that happened,” she had answered then, trying to blink back the tears that had wet her eyes. She’d watched Cat’s skin crease at the corners of her eyes and of her mouth when she had smiled back.

“I know you would.”

The first few weeks after the fire had been a whirlwind. The remaining children had spent some time in the hospital, recovering from minor injuries for the most part. And from the shock.

Soon enough, Arya had started acting out as she’d grown restless, and it had taken Brienne’s intervention to corner her. Once cornered, the girl had let her grieving anger turn into sobbing, and eventually let herself be comforted. Sansa had come crawling into the embrace as well, and Brienne had used every ounce of energy she had left to stop herself from crying, as she promised them both that they would be okay, eventually. That she would make sure of it. That she would be there for them.

Two weeks later, they had been moved to their aunt Lysa’s home in the Vale.

Brienne still cursed herself for not trying to stop them. She had met the couple a few times before, and it had been pretty obvious that the lady was under the firm control of her husband, and not of her own wits. Petyr Baelish had been charming to an uncomfortable level, and his incessant staring at Catelyn had creeped Brienne out.

He had seemed truly bereft at the funeral, while his wife had had a rather smug look for someone having just lost a sister. Lysa’s remaining brother, Edmure, had only just been married, attending the ceremony with his pregnant wife who wailed as if she had known Catelyn’s family all her life. They had barely exchanged a few words with Lysa and her husband.

Arya had seemed resentful when Brienne had seen the girls off with their aunt and uncle, and their cousin Robin. There had been a hug - a very quick and shallow embrace - then a bitter frown as the girl had turned around to look back one last time.As she had watched Baelish wrap a protective arm around Sansa, Brienne had reminded herself that she had promised Catelyn she would do anything to protect them.

That had started with selling almost everything she owned and moving to King’s Landing. She had been lucky to find support in Margaery, who had moved to the city after her brother’s wedding to her ex-boyfriend.

But her friend couldn’t quite help Brienne’s plans. Being an event organizer meant  an erratic schedule, late nights, and sometimes uncertain financials. She had had enough to support herself through droughts, but she knew social services would look for something more stable.

Her familiarity with information management and the construction world, from her father’s trade, had gotten her a position at the city planning office. The pay was lower, the work was much duller, but it was well worth the sacrifice.

Mrs. Florent was still listing potential foster kids when Brienne interrupted her. “I’m sorry, but it’s really important to me to... reconnect with those girls. I was close to their mother - ”

“No more than her own sister, I’d think,” the lady sniffed at her.

_ You’d be surprised how much Lysa hated her in the end. _ “But I was closer to the kids than any member of their extended family,” Brienne argued.

“Well, why don’t you request to foster the boys, then?” Benjen Stark had taken in his nephews about a week after the girls had left Winterfell. He had never married, and worked as a ranger in the Queenscrown National Park. The kids knew their uncle quite well, but he had been in no position to take all of them.

Though it would have been perhaps more natural to have the two youngest with experienced parents, Lysa Baelish had categorically refused to take Bran. The seven-year-old had had a bad fall just a year before, and severe damage to his spine had him confined to a wheelchair. He had barely been starting to use crutches when his parents had died.

Ben had later told Brienne of their meeting with the case worker. “We’re so often going to the Eyrie,” Lysa had complained, speaking of the castle-turned-second-residence up narrow cliffs. “It’s just impractical for a...  _ disabled _ child. We’d have to leave him behind all the time.” 

It had been a convenient excuse, but Brienne knew that her husband had probably coached her on it. Instead, Ned Stark’s younger brother had remodelled part of his home, and welcomed Bran and Rickon. As far as she knew, they were doing well.

“If you don’t think I have the means to support two children, how can you expect me to take on  one who’s disabled? My apartment building doesn’t even have an elevator.”

Mrs. Florent had the decency to look embarrassed. “Well,” she said haughtily, “at least we’ve established that your financial situation is a bit lacking. That’s often the case with unmarried women, you see. I’ll call you when I have more information.”

Frustrated by the summary dismissal, Brienne left the social services office with a scowl, scaring a few passersby. She had done the calculations: they wouldn’t be able to afford vacations outside of the Crownslands more than once every two years, year-and-a-half if they went to Tarth, but they would live comfortably enough otherwise. The insurance she had from her position also made things easier, as it would help with a lot of unexpected costs if it came to it.

She knew that compared to the Baelishes’ finances, that was very little, but she had hoped that the link she had forged with the girls would be a good argument. Not good enough, apparently.

Looking through her coat pockets to find her phone, her fingers brushed cardboard, and she fished out the tattered calling card Jaime Lannister had forced her to take. She hadn’t found a trash can in the immediate aftermath of their last encounter a few weeks earlier, and it had taken the brunt of the various objects she’d thrown in since. She would have had a fleeting smirk at the thought of the man subjected to a similar treatment, but her meeting with Mrs. Florent had soured any sense of humour she might have had left.

He  _ had _ offered to help... 

...but she knew that it would come at a cost, and she wasn’t quite desperate enough to consider paying it yet. Or even finding out what it might be, though she suspected it would come long after she would have taken his offer.

Annoyed by her helplessness, she unceremoniously returned the card to her pocket, before thinking the better of it and clipping it into her wallet. It  _ could _ come in handy.

 

***

 

“What a  _ bitch _ .”

“She’s just doing her job.”

Margaery was clearly less than impressed with Brienne’s tale of meeting with the social worker. 

Lounging on Brienne’s brown sofa, she shook her head while taking a sip. “You don’t have to defend her. We have no proof that she’s actually doing her job  _ well _ ,” she argued, swishing the dark red liquid around her glass.

“She’s still working there after what must be a half a century, so she can’t be  _ that _ bad.”

“You know very well that it doesn’t mean anything. She seems to have last century’s beliefs, too,” Margaery grumbled in her drink.

There wasn’t much Brienne could add, but that didn’t change  the fact that the lady was probably not going to be very helpful with her case.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have started this in the first place,” she mused out loud for the first time. There were still some shreds of hope, quickly melting, but even with a lawyer that she had no means to pay, she wasn’t sure things could turn around in her favour.

“You stop that right now,” Marge said, straightening up. She emptied her glass as she stood, a slight wobble barely noticeable. “You have an excellent moral compass, and if you don’t trust Baelish to properly take care of those girls, you’re doing the right thing.”

Brienne watched her march back to the kitchen to get more wine. “Well it seems like I won’t actually manage to do anything.  So it doesn’t really matter whether or not it’s the right thing.”

“We should get married.”

The comment had come after a short silence, and Brienne listened to the refrigerator door close with a perplexed expression. Margaery reentered the living room with a full glass and the look of someone convinced they have the idea of the century.

“We should get married,” she repeated. “Our combined revenue is going to be much better, our spendings much lower, and you don’t have to be a single woman on paper!”

Brienne stared at her for a second, before nodding. “Ah, yes, I can see Mrs. Florent being happier about a married  _ female _ couple raising kids.” She dodged the cushion that came at her as Marge settled back on the sofa. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think it would help all that much.”

“Can you change case workers?”

She had thought of it before. Often. “Almost as complicated as getting a foster kid in the first place,” she sighed.

“Well, don’t despair. You’re the good guy, figuratively speaking. It’ll work out.”

“You know very well that it doesn’t mean anything,” Brienne echoed from earlier in their conversation. If good people always got their just deserts, Catelyn would still be alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You now get where this is going...
> 
> ...on Wednesday :D


	8. The Offer

Brienne wasn’t used to the sun rising this early so soon in the spring, and she had fought the insistent luminosity of her bedroom to try and catch some more sleep on her first Saturday off in months. 

The move to King’s Landing had gnawed at her savings, and she had temporarily taken an additional part-time job on weekends to help refurnish her bank accounts. Delivering parcels for a shipping company would never be her career choice, but it helped her familiarize herself with the city.

Determined knocking on her flat’s door put an end to the beginnings of a dream, and she briefly considered not answering. She knew no one who might show up at this hour: Margaery would still be soundly asleep in her apartment, after all the wine she’d drank here the previous night. Renly and Loras were still in Storm’s End. She was not friendly enough with any of her coworkers to have given them her home address, either.

Reluctantly, at the sound of more knocking, she grabbed her robe from the back of her bedroom door and made her sleepy way to the entrance of her flat. A quick glance at the peephole woke her up almost completely: Jaime Lannister was standing there, looking half-impatient, half-uncertain. His golden hair had noticeably grown since she’d last seen him a few months earlier, giving him a bit more of a carefree air, the effect of which was completed by the effortless style of his casual clothes. 

The look was annoyingly attractive, and Brienne regretted noticing the moment she did so. Face-palming, she straightened her pajamas, tightly wound the robe around herself and tried to place her hair as best as she could with her fingers.

Jaime had clearly been about to turn and walk away when she opened the door, and she cursed herself internally for not waiting ten seconds longer. He looked at her with genuine surprise, and for a moment she wondered if he had been expecting it to be someone else.

“Hi, sorry, did I - did I wake you up?”

“Well, it’s - it’s early,” Brienne fumbled, realizing she had no idea what time it was.  _ I should install a clock by the door _ , she thought fleetingly, trying to fight a traitorous blush creeping up her neck once again.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” he said with what seemed to be a genuinely apologetic smile, raking his fingers through his hair, “I tend to get up really early, and I forget...” he trailed off. When she didn’t answer, creating an awkward silence, he continued. “I, uh, can I come in for a few minutes?”

Jaime seemed as determined to get a verbal answer as she was to stare him down, but he probably had the advantage of caffeine at this point in the day.

“What do you want?” she ended up sighing.

“To discuss something with you that might be awkward to talk over in the hallway of an apartment building,” he said with a conspiratorial look. When she looked unimpressed, he went for a more effective argument. “Just five minutes.”

The thought of letting him into her home, in an unusual state of mess from her evening with Margaery, was not a pleasant one. That reminded her - “How did you find out where I live?”

He blinked at her silently for a moment, then had the annoyed expression of someone guilty being called out. “Does it really matter - “

“Be careful with your answer, because that will determine the amount of trust I will put in anything else you say,” she warned.

He hesitated, then nodded, resigned. “I have a,  _ friend _ in postal services, and he told me where you were getting your mail forwarded to from Winterfell,” he explained.

Was he literally admitting to going through backchannels to get her personal information? Bold move, that could easily get her not to trust him at all.

But it was honest.

She rolled her eyes, refraining from sighing again, and turned away without closing the door. Jaime did get the hint, shutting it behind him as he followed her.

Brienne caught him assessing the visible space, limited by his point of view, and cleared her throat pointedly to signify his five minutes had already begun.

“Right,” he said, returning his attention to her, “I’ll cut to the chase. I know this is going to sound crazy, but please listen to the end. I would like to offer - I think we should get married.”

He misunderstood the bewilderment on her face, and started to try and explain.

“Did you have my place  _ bugged _ ?!” she interrupted.

It was his turn to look shocked. “I - what?” When she still stared at him accusingly, he protested. “No! Why would I do that?”

“You went to pretty great lengths to get my address!”

“I asked  _ one _ person, that’s not really  _ great lengths _ ! Why would you think I’d have bugged your apartment anyway?”

She didn’t want to answer that question. As she had the advantage of territory, she decided that she was entitled to that. Wrapping her robe more tightly around herself, she rolled her eyes again. “Nevermind. Why would I marry you?”

“To adopt the Stark girls.”

He didn’t have to list all of the advantages that marrying into the Lannister family would provide for her case, they were pretty plain to see. What wasn’t, however, was the reason why he would even offer.

“No. What would you even get out of it?”

“Karma? Tax cuts?” he said dismissively with a smile. He was the only one finding it funny.

“Get out.”

“Brienne, I’m serious - “

“So am I! Are you looking for someone to take the fall for one of your shady schemes? Or to - “

“Okay, I get it, you don’t trust me,” he cut angrily. “But nothing I’ve ever done has ever been blamed on someone else than me. I’m perfectly capable of dealing with the consequences of my actions!”

They stared one another down for a moment, both angry in their own rights. What had he expected, coming here?

“There would be a prenup,” he started.

“No. I don’t - “

“ - that would guarantee you enough resources to live very comfortably once we divorce. We only have to keep that up until the adoption is finalized.” Brienne scoffed. “You’d get full custody at that point. They would get a  _ house _ and the financial security that you can’t attain right now,” he continued. “And they would be away from Baelish.”

Though he appeared calm, that last part was said in a different tone, and she couldn’t help wonder what was his history with the man.

“Trying to buy back your reputation with good deeds?” The jab was mean-spirited, she knew, but he didn’t seem affected in the least. 

“My reputation and I are doing just fine.”

“So am I. I’ll manage on my own.” Moving past him, she opened the door, standing firmly beside it. The five minutes had been up for a while already.

He took a deep breath, staring at her. “This is your best option.”

“But not my only one. Thank you for the offer. Goodbye.”

When he saw she wouldn’t budge, he reluctantly walked towards the open door. He seemed to want to try another argument, but thought better of it. “Just, please consider it.”

She gave no sign of assent or otherwise, and he departed with a sigh as she closed the door after him, locking it again.

Clearly she wasn’t quite awake yet. That had probably been just a dream.

Jaime Lannister had basically proposed to her. 

Shaking her head, she made her way back to her bedroom, only to realize there was no way sleep would return now.

It would probably be an odd day. 

 

***

 

A few days later, when her cellphone rang during lunch time, Brienne looked warily at the unknown number displayed on the screen. If Jaime had gotten her address so easily, her number wouldn’t be all that much of a stretch. 

“Hello?”

“Brienne?”

The sound of an uncertain young voice at the other end of the line flooded her with mixed emotions. “Sansa?”

“Oh, I’m so glad I have the right number! I had to ask a lot of people to get it, and I was worried it would go wrong along the way!”

Brienne smiled, impressed by the girl’s determination, but worried about the need for it: her aunt and uncle would easily have had access to it. “How are you doing, Sansa?”

There was a barely noticeable pause before she answered. “Oh, I’m doing fine. It’s a bit warmer here, and we get more sun now that winter’s over, so that’s good.”

“Yes, in King’s Landing as well. It’s a nice change.” Somehow, Brienne suspected that the teenager wasn’t calling to talk about the season. “How is Arya?”

“Ah. Well. Arya’s having more trouble adapting to this place than I am,” came her reply, in too much of an off-handed tone. “She’s been acting out a lot, Aunt Lysa and Petyr aren’t happy.”

“Oh?” The youngest Stark daughter would have turned ten  earlier that year, and it had been plain to see from the start that her personality would never fit well with her aunt’s family. “What’s going on?”

“She’s been getting into fights at school, biting even, and she sneaks out at night. She’s been stealing from shops, too, even though we have a pretty generous allowance.”

Brienne felt a pinch of guilt at the mention of pocket money. They wouldn’t get much in the way of that if they stayed with her.

“They’ve been talking about kicking her out,” Sansa continued, “but I told them that I’m staying with her, no matter what.”

The sisters had always been very different, and fought regularly even back in Winterfell, so the oldest’s loyalty to her sibling was heartwarming. “That is really nice of you.”

Still, Brienne felt both panic and hope at the thought of the situation: that opened a door for having them move with her, but if she wasn’t ready to take them, they might end up getting lost in the system.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to risk that.

“I really miss all of you,” Brienne said with a smile. “Maybe we could arrange so that you come visit me?”

“I don’t think so,” the girl replied quickly. “Aunt Lysa and Petyr don’t like you very much.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Have you heard anything from Bran and Rickon with Uncle Benjen?”

“Apparently they’ve had a lot of fun on dog sleds over the winter. I’m almost jealous,” she replied wistfully, and Brienne wondered how much she missed the boys. “We video chat with them over TRaven, so it’s not too bad being so far away.”

There was only so much that could be said over the phone to try and alleviate the sadness in her voice, and wretched distance forbid a probably much-needed hug.

Voices could be heard in the teenager’s background. “I’m sorry, Brienne, I have to go. It was really nice talking to you. We miss you too, you know.”

“You can call me anytime, Sansa. I am really happy to hear from you. Tell Arya she can call too, okay?”

“I will. Thank you.”

Leaning back in her chair in the break room, Brienne let the flow of emotion wash through her. Clearly there was nothing else to do than to renew her commitment to getting the girls to move in with her. 

Granted, they had only been there for some six months, and they were still dealing with the grief of losing their parents, their brother, and their home. But Sansa’s words had only fuelled her suspicions that something was not quite right, beyond that.

Later that night, back at home, she went over her financials again, disappointed to find nothing new or encouraging.

The thought of Jaime Lannister’s proposal fleetingly went through her mind like an annoying fly, and she swatted it away. Nothing good could come from associating with a Lannister, especially not that close, and that officially.

With a sigh, she opened The Joust, an event planning forum. Finding a bit of work in her original career in King’s Landing would probably be a competition, but she was getting a bit desperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN. Obvs she'll come around, backwards, but you know Brienne. Her promise is more important than her pride :3 More on Sunday!


	9. Doubling Down

August came around with blistering heat, and if Brienne was honest, she was not entirely displeased to find Jaime at her door once again. He’d had better timing this time, too, choosing to appear in early evening on a Wednesday rather than a weekend morning at dawn.

“I know you haven’t contacted me yet,” he opened by way of greeting, “but I found a house that would be pretty perfect if we agreed to this. I just thought that could be a good argument for you to consider.”

His skin had clearly been kissed by the sun at this point, only adding to the contrast between them - her pale, freckled complexion had always refused to tan. He tucked a loose strand of golden hair behind his ear, and scratched at the five o’clock shadow on his jaw. He looked a bit scruffy for a weeknight, in jeans and a red t-shirt. Then again, the life of rich people did not follow the same rules as commoners.

She shook herself from her reflexion. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction to think that she  _ had _ been contemplating his offer, even if she had, but she also couldn’t risk him taking it back.  _ I hate games _ .

“You couldn’t have just sent an email?”

“You - I don’t have your email address,” he stated blankly.  _ That’s right _ , she thought,  _ I didn’t  _ give _ it to you, like I didn’t tell where I live, either. _

“Well, I’ll rectify that,” she sighed as she let him in. 

The apartment was in a much better state than at his last visit, but she still confined him to the kitchen. She was uneasy about letting him into her personal life, and for a moment she wondered how well they might fare living under the same roof.  _ Just until the girls are adopted. _

“So, it’s just outside of King’s Landing, halfway to Kingswood. It’s a bit of a commute, but it’s an easy one through King’s Gate.” He laid printouts of maps and pictures on the table, showing a large, two-story wooden house surrounded by trees. “There’s enough space for them to have their own room, we can both have an office, and there could still be a...  _ guest _ bedroom.”

Brienne raised a questioning eyebrow at that, wondering about the pointed tone. 

“Well. I mean there’s the master bedroom. But there’s only going to be one bed there.”

Giving a short nod, she returned to the picture, hoping that her blush wouldn’t extend too far, too quickly.

The house seemed amazing, though clearly it needed some work, ideally to be done before they’d move in. She noted among the documents he’d brought that he had listed such needed repairs and renovations, and caught a glimpse of the costs attributed to each.

“How much is that house?” she tried to ask casually, feeling her stomach drop. She had formed, and still clung to, the hope that her financial contribution to setting up a home would not be entirely eclipsed by his money, but it didn’t bode well considering the expensive work that needed to be done. She just didn’t want to be entirely at the mercy of his pockets, however deep they may be.

“Two hundred sixty five,” Jaime replied offhandedly. She refrained from asking if he meant  _ thousands _ . “It’s a pretty good price considering the size and the quality, and renovations shouldn’t get much higher than twenty-five, since I know a good number of contractors. We’ll get a competitive price.”

It sounded so easy when he said it. But just the 25,000 was two thirds of what she made in a year, before taxes. She had considered noting down everything he paid for so that she could repay him eventually, after they’d separated, to make sure she owed him as little as she could. But two hundred sixty five was insurmountable with two kids, unless she used the funds he’d said she’d receive from the prenup, which would just be giving him back his own money, not lowering her debt.

Grunting in frustration, she rubbed her eyes and temples for a moment. “I can’t afford that,” she declared, hoping that would be enough of a dismissal.

He looked baffled. “You... do know I’m paying for it, right?”

“That’s the problem.”

He stared at her for an uncomfortable minute. “The point of us doing this is so there is enough money to provide for the kids. The house is part of that. That’s my part of the plan,” he explained, and Brienne was annoyed that he sounded as if he was speaking to a child.

She gathered the papers without a word and held them out to him as he gaped at her.  _ This was a terrible idea _ . Her blush was creeping back to her chin and she just wished he would disappear.

“Okay, so you want to pay for it? Let’s split it in half,” he suggested, ignoring the stack she was handing him.

“I can’t afford a hundred thirty thousand either,” she sighed, annoyed, flinging the papers back on the table.

He shrugged. “We’ll get you a loan. It’s not like you’re going to be penniless after this is over.”

“No bank is going to lend that kind of money to me. I don’t have the credit. I don’t have  _ bad _ credit, but I don’t have  _ that kind  _ of credit.”

It was his turn to sigh. “I’ll cosign for it, and so if you ever have to default on it, you’ll still be safe to keep the house. The deed will be in your name, anyway.”

Her lower lip was a bit raw from chewing on it, she realized, and she wiped it quickly trying to think of a response. When none came, as she still look undecided, he shook his head. For half of terrifying second, she thought he was taking back his offer.

“Listen, I’ll just leave that with you,” he said as he pointed to the documents, “and I’ll draft up the prenup’s conditions, and include the house. We can negotiate on that, you can ask for your own conditions, and we can see from there. It’s going to be a process anyway.”

This was insane. She was agreeing to even  _ discuss _ marrying Jaime Lannister, heir to the Lannister fortune. Probably one of the most gorgeous men on the continent. At  _ his _ insistence.

“Fine,” she heard herself say, and there was a glint of relief in his green eyes. She hadn’t signed anything, she reminded herself when anxiety grasped her stomach, and wasn’t bound to anything. Yet.

There was a short awkward silence, and he cleared his throat as he took out his phone, typing a few things on it before handing it to her: a  _ New contact _ form with her name. “I’ll need your email address.”

She wrote it in a bit clumsily, unused to the device’s brand, and a thought went through her head as she finished it. 

“You do realize that I’m not inheriting any significant land on Tarth, right?” she asked before handing the cellphone back.

Jaime looked puzzled. “I - Okay? What does that have to do with anything?”

That was the only thing she could think of that he might want out of that deal. Others had had the hope before.

“Just making sure that you know.”

He had a slightly disappointed smirk. “Still think I’m trying to cheat you in some way?”

“Why wouldn’t you be? Lannisters rarely do things that don’t provide them with something they want,” she said, crossing her arms.

“You’d be surprised. We just don’t talk about it much.” He offered a hand, and she took it with a warning glare, remembering him kissing hers the last time she had. He simply shook it with a grip equally as strong as her own.

“Miss Tarth, thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch.”

He walked to the door, and she followed in somewhat of a daze. Turning around just as he reached the exit, he ended up face to face with her, forcing her to take a step back.

“Sorry,” he said, “it’s just - you  _ do _ understand that this should not be publicized? I mean, it’ll get out eventually, but we shouldn’t hasten that.”

She stared at him blankly. “Who would believe me?”

Opening the door, he looked thoughtful as he stepped outside. Turning back to her, he replied, “The kind of people who could profit from it, besides you and the kids, and cause a lot of damage to everyone involved. Just please be careful,” he added with what seemed to be genuine concern.

When she gave a short nod, he returned one is salutation and walked off to round the hallway’s corner to the staircase.

“What are you getting yourself into,” Brienne spoke aloud in the empty corridor, and she wasn’t certain if it was at him, or herself.

 

***

 

“You did what?”

Tyrion’s tone was light and amused, as if he was entirely certain that it was a joke. He’d shown up at Jaime’s apartment the following Sunday afternoon with more juicy gossip on Cersei’s public antics. But the older brother’s news was even better.

“I’ve just finished writing down prenup arrangements to send to Brienne Tarth,” Jaime repeated, hoping he sounded as casual as he hoped to be.

“Did she suddenly become a lawyer?”

He gave his short brother a look, but didn’t elaborate as he gathered the documents spread on the coffee table next to his laptop. Tyrion’s bewilderment grew as his silence continued, until he sat up straight on the leather sofa.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” Leaning back in his armchair, Jaime sighed. “It’s gonna be a bit complicated, and I’m not entirely sure she’ll go for it in the first place, but - “

“Okay, okay, stop. Rewind.  _ Why _ are you planning to marry her?”

He had expected Brienne to have exhausted enough time and resources not to question his motives much, but Tyrion did not have anything riding on that offer. Jaime would have to be a lot more convincing than he had been with her. “You’ve heard of what happened to the Starks?"

“Who hasn’t.”

“She’s trying to adopt two of their remaining kids, but she doesn’t have the funds, and social services are not too keen on single individuals taking children in.”

An awkward silence settled as Tyrion looked expectantly at him. “...and?”

“Well, that’s it.”

“Are you meaning to tell me that you, Jaime Lannister, eternal bachelor, are going to marry someone who is not remotely attractive, who brings nothing to the union in any way, out of the goodness of your heart? I mean, if you’re looking for someone to clean up after you, a maid service will cost you a LOT less.”

Jaime waved him off, shaking his head, and got up to get more beer from the refrigerator. “I can clean up after myself just fine.”

“I don’t think you understand just how major this is, Jaime,” Tyrion insisted as he followed him. “Father will never agree to this.”

“Father doesn’t have to. I’m not asking for his permission.” The cool beer down his throat did little to steady him. He did understand the ramifications of what he was trying to do, and though he acted confident, this was a shot in the near darkness.

“She would gain access - “

“That’s why there’s a prenup.” While his younger brother had always been the clever one, Jaime wasn’t  _ that _ stupid. “She gets a comfortable amount once it’s over, from  _ my _ money, and not a dime from the estate.”

“And the kids? Social services are going to expect you to adopt them at the same time she does. Even with a prenup, that complicates things.” 

Damn, he was persistent.  _ Should have kept my mouth shut. _ “We’ll foster them for long enough to establish that their home is with her, then stage our separation.”

Leaning on the doorway of the kitchen, Tyrion cast him a searching look, clearly unsatisfied by his explanation. “I still don’t get  _ why _ you’re doing this. What are you getting out of it?”

_ Not something I want to voice right now. _ “Can’t I just be a benevolent person and do something nice for the sake of it?” The dwarf snorted. “It’s not like I’m hurting for money.”

Tyrion shook his head, understanding that there would be little else he could pull out of his brother at the time. “Lannisters are not known for their charity. I’m pretty certain even Brienne Tarth knows that.” Jaime’s expression confirmed it. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

_ So do I _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He really is the _best_ option, even with his own, mysterious motivations... :D
> 
> Next update on Wednesday :D


	10. Wedding Bells

It took two months of back and forth, and help from Margaery’s contacts to arrive at a final contract that Brienne didn’t feel queasy about. There was always a bit of nausea lurking whenever she thought of actually going through with the plan, but she reminded herself of the girls every single time. She had promised.

Arya hadn’t called, but Sansa had contacted her on a few more occasions, though never with any big news. Brienne was a bit of a link to their old life, she knew, and she was happy to provide some solace on that front.

She hadn’t said anything of her plans, not wanting to give the girls false hopes in case it fell through. The possibility that they might not want to come live with her was also there, but taking the chance of asking them outright was too big a risk. She was worried that if Baelish heard anything about it, he would do everything to stop it from happening.

Jaime hadn’t shared her worries, but had shrugged that if it didn’t work, they could just get the marriage annulled within the first few months. They’d just go back to their separate lives.

The autumn day they finally met at the courthouse was cool and windy. A marriage license had been obtained the day before, and they’d simply have a short, formal civil ceremony. Refusing to put on any sort of dress, Brienne had simply decided to wear her office clothing - black trousers and a white shirt. Her husband-to-be had shown up in a casual grey suit that could have put a model to shame.

Margaery, though she swore up and down that it was a terrible idea, had agreed to serve as a witness for her, and an amused Tyrion was to do the same for Jaime.

Brienne was far too nervous to properly react to the dwarf’s humorous attempts at defusing tension, much to his chagrin. They had had a few moments alone, when both her future husband and her best friend had left for the restrooms one after another.

“He’s not a bad man, you know.”

She gave him a concerned look. “The fact that you feel the need to tell me that makes me worry a lot more.”

He chuckled. “I know he can be a twat, but he doesn’t mean harm, unless you’re of a particularly nasty variety of idiot, which clearly you are not. I don’t know what he’s planning, but I am absolutely convinced that it won’t be at your, or the girls’ expense.”

Brienne looked around uneasily, trying to calm her thundering heart. Perhaps she’d need a bathroom soon too. “That doesn’t reassure me in the least.”

“You must be desperate.” Tyrion’s mismatched eyes were full of solicitude, but he didn’t seem concerned for her. “In any case, whether or not you remain my sister-in-law, I hope you know that you have a friend in me. However little he may be,” he finished with a grin.

She smiled awkwardly at the joke, but if things went wrong between Jaime and herself, she knew who his brother would side with.

The groom returned shortly after Marge did, and they made their way to the room where an officiant droned through formalities, asking them for their verbal consent to marry, having them exchange rings, then making everyone sign the license.

Brienne went through it all hyper-aware of every word, every touch, every sound. Though she remained stoic in appearance, her mind was host to a whirlwind of worries. She had not told her father yet, not entirely certain that they would even go through with it. How would she even explain it? What if the press got hold of the story before she could? 

The document was to be copied and notarized, then sent off after a few weeks to request a marriage certificate. The copy would serve as a temporary proof of marriage so that they could begin the process of becoming foster parents.

Thanks to the Lannister name being involved, the purchase of the house had been considerably sped up, and they signed for the sale just a few days after the ceremony. Renovations were to start two weeks later, and they expected to be able to move in before the Winter Solstice.

They finally ended up in front of a new social worker, Ygritte Mance. Even though the new resources and marital status would make things a lot easier, Jaime had deemed it more prudent to start anew, and he had secured the change through his contacts.

Sitting before the fiery-haired woman, who must have been younger than her, Brienne tried once again to catch her breath.  _ Everything _ had been going so fast, but the most important part was just starting.

“So you’ve just gotten married! Congrats!” The woman’s suspicious greyish blue eyes went from one to the other, but she smiled. “How long have you known one another?”

She sounded very casual, but they all knew that this was an interrogation. 

“Nearly two years,” Jaime answered with something akin to pride. “We met at one of the events she organized up north, while I was on a business trip. There were sparks from the start, though we did enjoy a short period of antagonizing one another first.”

He looked at Brienne lovingly, and for a moment, she was once again disconcerted at how easily and how  _ well _ he lied. They had practiced their story a few times - “Not too much,” he’d warned, “if we have all the same details to the letter, it  _ will _ sound prepared.” - but it was still baffling.

Ygritte’s smile never wavered as she looked at her papers, then back to them. “I see here that it’s not your occupation anymore?”

“Ah... no. After the - the fire,” Brienne explained, as her audience adopted the appropriate sorrowful expression at the mention of the incident, “there was not much left for me in Winterfell. I moved to King’s Landing to be closer to my father, on Tarth, and to him,” she added as she awkwardly placed a hand on Jaime’s knee.  _ This has got to be the worst performance in the history of lies _ . “There is a lot more competition in my field here, so I looked for a more stable job.”

“Why not take advantage of your husband’s contacts? Surely there is no shortage of rich people wanting to organize events in the city,” the social worker asked, casting a cold smile towards Jaime, who surprisingly simply smiled back.

“She’s proud,” he answered in her stead, “she’s always wanted to earn everything by herself as much as she could, and I wouldn’t want to force her into a situation she didn’t want.”

“Of course.” More rifling through documents, then: “So you’re saying that you want to foster children who are already placed?”

“We just - “ they started at the same time, and Jaime deferred to her. “We just want to be considered as an alternative, should there be a need for it,” Brienne explained, happy to be able to say most of the truth. “The girls and I were close before, I saw them almost every week. I’d just like them to know that if they wish for it, we’d be more than happy to welcome them.”

Ygritte studied her closely, still a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Do you have any reason to believe that they would want to leave an already comfortable life that they’ve known for - “ she looked down at a sheet “ - coming on to a year?”

“I - “ Both the fiery woman and her new husband were staring at her, waiting for her answer, both seemingly in hope of a lie, though for different reasons. 

He had warned her that social services would not appreciate her being in touch with Sansa behind her foster parents’ back. They had rehearsed this.

“I’ve been speaking with the oldest,” she exhaled. Beside her, Jaime feigned surprise perfectly, though she could almost hear him curse her in his head.

“Oh?” Ygritte suddenly sat up straight at her admission, as if there was finally something worthy of her attention. “How so? Are her guardians aware of that?”

Avoiding her companion’s hard stare, Brienne explained. “She’s called me of her own initiative a few times, just to chat, I haven’t tried contacting her myself. The Baelishes... don’t like me much. Mostly because of the way I look.” She took a deep breath, finally connecting with the conviction that she was doing the right thing. “But Catelyn Stark trusted me with her children, and I would like to honour that trust.”

Silence followed her statement, under the women’s piercing gaze. It went on long enough for a sliver of doubt to try and attempt to slip into her mind, but at last Ygritte spoke. 

“Well. That is very loyal of you. However, I think you can appreciate that unless the children seek it, or the current guardians refuse further custody, we cannot approach them with such an offer.”

“Of course, we didn’t expect you to. We merely wanted our interest to be known, should the situation call for it.” Jaime’s voice was apologetic, and Brienne knew he would let her know just how cross he was with her the moment they were out of earshot. 

“It is noted. I’ll convey your offer to the social services in the Vale as well. Now, if you really are serious about doing this - “

“We are. We really are.”

“ - then I will schedule you for parenting classes and evaluations to certify you as potential foster parents. That way if the opportunity arises, that will be fewer formalities in the way.”

When they finally bid her farewell, she still had a smile on her lips and suspicion in her eyes. They could only hope that she would transmit the information to the Vale offices. 

The moment they sat down in his car, doors shut, he started at her. “Sixty seconds. Sixty seconds was all it took for you to lose your cool and spill it.”

“Sorry, I haven’t had as much practice at lying as you did.” It had ended pretty well, considering, and she remained convinced that she had made the correct choice. That kind of honesty could go a long way in the right situation.

“You do realize we’ll have to pretend like this for numerous, random home visits, when the girls are here? You  _ will  _ have to get better at this.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “At this rate, we don’t even know if we’ll get them.”

She turned to him, frowning, when he chuckled.

“You think we would leave that kind of thing to fate?”

“I am  _ not _ telling Sansa!”

“You don’t have to.” He started the car, fastening his seatbelt. Unconsciously, she did the same. “She already knows.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's dooooone. And now they live happily ever after.
> 
>  
> 
> Just kidding. It's barely beginning :D Next update on Sunday!


	11. Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter slightly backtracks on the timeline, because of the different point of view.
> 
> WARNING: Slight mentions of creepy behaviour from Baelish.

“So how did this happen this time?”

The school nurse, a short and plump woman with cropped black hair, was cleaning up Arya’s scraped elbow for the third time that week. The sisters had only been at Hersy Elementary School for a month before she had started getting into fights, becoming a regular of both the principal’s and the nurse’s offices.

Six months down the road, despite multiple warnings, the girl was still refusing to miss an opportunity to shut  her bullies’ mouths.

Both she and Sansa were miserable living with their aunt, though Sansa never complained. It was to the point where it had become annoying, as if her older sister saw  _ nothing _ that was going on. Sansa kept her head down, did her homework, did her chores, let aunt Lysa abuse her in subtle ways, and Petyr...

They had to leave that place.

“I slipped and fell in the gravel,” Arya answered distractedly. She had been thinking of plans to run away from the Vale, half-convinced that the Baelishes would never come after her anyway. They hated her, and it was mutual. 

But that would mean leaving Sansa behind, because she would never be able to convince her to leave. She had wondered whether her older sister might be under some kind of spell, or actually happy where she was, but she could feel something wasn’t right.

But she didn’t quite know what else to do.

“Are you alright, darling? Is something going on at home?”

Her mind perked up at the nurse’s question. If she could convince her that something was indeed happening, that could trigger social services to relocate them with another family.

The problem was, there were high chances that they would end up separated, and there was no telling what kind of families they would end up with. Arya couldn’t imagine worse than Petyr’s sleazy eyes, but she was smart enough to know that many things in the world went far beyond her imagination.

“No... it’s fine...”

There would have to be a viable alternative for the both of them together. Her thoughts went to uncle Benjen, who had taken in Bran and little Rickon, but he couldn’t possibly take two more kids, even if she made the solemn vow never to get in a fight again.

The nurse finished bandaging her arm, and Arya absent-mindedly jumped off the infirmary bed she had been perched on. Pain shot through her knee, and she looked down at the torn trouser. She’d forgotten about that one. Aunt Lysa would not be pleased. Once again.

Sitting back on the bed under the disapproving eye of her caretaker, she pondered at the potential guardians they could move in with. Perhaps she should share her plan with Sansa, but she still wasn’t entirely sure she’d want to leave. What if she told the Baelishes about it?

She couldn’t quite risk it.

That evening, as she tuned out Lysa’s ranting about her  _ dreadful _ behaviour, tightening her fist and digging her nails into her palms as her mother was mentioned, how  _ disappointed _ she would be in her, Arya’s eyes wandered to her bedroom’s door frame, through which she saw Sansa spying on the scolding.

Was she enjoying the entertainment? She had a blank look on her face as their gaze met, and turned away after a few seconds.

Later that night, as Arya prepared her nightly expedition to steal food from the kitchen after once again being sent to bed without supper, she watched her door warily as it opened. Her older sister quietly slipped into the room with a warning glare.

If she hoped to stop her, that was wasted effort.

“Are you trying to get us thrown out?”

“You’re that attached to staying here?”

Sansa scoffed, sitting on the bed. She was holding a large tin box that she set on her lap. “Of course not. But we have nowhere else to go yet.”

Arya squinted at her. “Yet?”

“I’ve been asking around for Brienne’s number.”

It was the youngest sister’s turn to sneer. “She abandoned us. She let them take us!”

“It’s not like she had much choice, is it?” Sansa toyed with the lid of her box, remembering the day they’d left. “She couldn’t have taken us in then. I heard she moved to King’s Landing and she got a job in an office. It would be easier to live with her there.”

“What makes you think she’d even want us?” The memory of her standing by as she watched them be dragged from their home was still a bitter one in Arya’s mind. It had felt like a betrayal. They had trusted her, she had promised to always be there for them.

And now she was nowhere near.

“I don’t know, but we have to try. It’s better than doing nothing. But you have to tone it down,” Sansa warned. “You can’t be kicked out before we know for sure where we’ll be going.”

“What about you? They’ll kick  _ me _ out, but they  _ looove _ you,” Arya mocked. They were always fussing over her. 

“Aunt Lysa hates me. She hates that I look so much like mom.” There was a lot more that was left unsaid, but they both understood the implications. “If they try to get rid of you, I’ll tell them that I’m going wherever you are.  _ He _ won’t let that happen as long as he has a choice.”

Half-convinced, Arya sighed dramatically, taking place on the bed next to her sister. “So what do we do? We wait?”

“For now.” The lid from Sansa’s box was removed, revealing a sizeable number of lemon cakes. “Just until we’re ready to go. That means you have to behave for a while.” She lifted the treats away from Arya’s grasp to make sure she had her full attention.

Her younger sister rolled her eyes. “Alright.  _ Alright _ , I will,” she repeated under Sansa’s dubious stare.

They shared some of the cakes until the hunger in Arya’s stomach subsided.  _ It’s gonna be hard _ , she thought. Her classmates were such idiots.

 

***

 

Still, she made good on her promise, learning to avoid the worst of the bullies who would try to pull her into a fight, and to simply dodge their blows if it came down to it. It was a painful training at first, but it paid off. The teachers were usually warned quickly enough when a fight broke out, but they never found her swinging back at her opponents anymore.

She stopped getting into trouble.

Meanwhile, Sansa had obtained Brienne’s cellphone number, and kept telling her that everything was great apart from Arya always getting into fights at school. It wasn’t true anymore, but the woman seemed happy to hear from them, so there was at least that much hope.

They still had regular home visits by their social worker, a young woman by the name of Dacey. She was nice enough, and she seemed appropriately suspicious of the Baelishes. That could only help the girls’ plans.

They had been pretending to her, too, that things were going splendidly. Arya said nothing of  _ randomly _ walking into the room whenever Petyr was alone with Sansa, or when she  _ accidentally _ trip over him when he hugged her sister too long on her birthday.

Dacey didn’t seem entirely convinced, even though they both insisted whenever she tried to make sure they knew it was safe to talk to her. It just wasn’t time yet.

On one of those visits, in mid-August, when she sat down alone with them, she wordlessly slipped a folded note to Sansa.

_ Brienne should be able to take you in soon _

It wasn’t signed, and it seemed unlikely that it had come from Brienne herself. Once it was read by both sisters, Dacey took it back, and the meeting proceeded as usual, though there was some palpable electricity in the room.

As she got up to leave, she turned to them and lowered her voice. “I’m not allowed to pass on communications to you.” Her meaning was clear.

That night, after the house fell quiet, Sansa once again slipped into her sister’s room, and they discussed their plan. They had no way of knowing what ‘soon’ meant exactly, nor when they would have confirmation that Brienne was ready. Their best option was to slowly and progressively start acting up, hopefully reaching the breaking point with good timing.

Arya started with small pranks at school, eventually reeling in a crew of admirers-slash-foot soldiers. She did enough for the authorities to know it was her, though never putting her peers in danger of being reprimanded, and never getting caught herself.

Slowly upping up the ante, she began bigger coups at school, while starting new schemes at home. Changing labels on food, badly forging signatures, bringing bugs and critters inside. The latter was short-lived, as it freaked out their cousin Robin who, despite being terribly whiny and annoying, was just a child. He didn’t deserve to suffer because of his parents.

Petyr seemed determined to keep his cool in light of all of Arya’s mischief, but they didn’t miss the multiple shouting episodes that Lysa had after the more trying days. In fact, those appeared to be a lot more effective at grating at her husband’s nerves, which made it all the more entertaining.

In the meantime, Sansa kept quiet, doing a pretty good job at keeping her laughter an internal affair. She had to switch strategies soon, when they realized that if she didn’t protest Arya’s antics, they might suspect her complicity - and their whole plan.

So she started getting mad at her sister in public, and it was the youngest’s turn to have to hold her smiles. 

They also had to keep the charade up in front of Dacey, who looked to be about as convinced by it as she had been by their pretense of happiness.

But she suspected the plan, and noted everything down diligently.

October was two weeks gone when the social worker took out a small piece of torn paper, and scribbled a single word on it before showing it discreetly to the girls. 

_ READY _

They all looked at one another successively with the tiniest of nods, and continued the meeting as usual.

Sansa had been following Arya’s instructions and training meticulously, though she didn’t relish the next part of the plan. But it was necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's how Jaime got the kids to know there was a plan :D
> 
> I am also very happy to confirm that I've finished writing this fic, so this _will_ be posted in its entirety. It'll take a while because it IS 32 chapters long, so you do the math 8) But yes! Total comes just under 74,000 words, so there's plenty more to come :D


	12. Coming Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting even earlier than usual tonight because I think I'm coming down with something, so I want to go to bed early, but I _still_ want to wake up to your comments. So I'll go sleep while you enjoy this :D

“She did what?”

“She assaulted another student in the schoolyard. He had to get stitches.”

Ygritte’s tone was as disapproving as she could make it sound, but amusement and a certain level of admiration still seeped through. Brienne suspected that the incident had not been Sansa’s initiative, nor that it had been unwarranted. But still: it was highly unlike the teenager.

“While her husband is trying to calm things down, Mrs. Baelish is understandably distraught by that behaviour, as she fears that both of the girls acting out might become a bad example for her son,” the social worker continued. “The anniversary of their family’s death just came around, so I suppose there can be a case made for leniency.”

She didn’t sound convinced, probably because she’d heard about Lysa’s hysterics. That granted a potentially crucial opening for the girls to get out, but they would have to act quickly and efficiently in order to make that happen.

“We’d like to see the girls, if that’s possible to arrange.” Jaime’s voice was full of sollicitude, but Brienne was able to detect some satisfaction behind it. 

He had explained how he’d managed to pass on messages through his contact at social services, and though she had disapproved of using technically illegal moves, Sansa’s fight seemed an odd coincidence so quickly after they’d obtained a certification to be foster parents.

“I’m not certain that Mr. Baelish will agree to that,” Ygritte warned. “However, should the girls express a desire to consider other options, we will have to take that into account, regardless of their guardians’ opinion.”

Petyr’s reluctance to let the sisters go had been expected, though Brienne could still not imagine what advantage that could bring him. Was he hoping to get the rights to manage their inheritance? It mostly consisted of burnt land at that point.

“I must also impress on you,” the redhead added slowly, “that Arya has been leading a small gang of school children into pranks in the past weeks. You should not necessarily expect either of their behaviour to improve once -  _ if _ you obtain guardianship, though we can hope for it. But yes, anything goes from this point.”

Brienne nodded. “We understand. Have they received any counseling since they left Winterfell? I know they saw a therapist in the immediate aftermath of the tragedy, but now?”

Ygritte quickly looked through her file, an eyebrow raised. When she looked back up, her expression was nearly neutral. “I’m not at liberty to disclose that information.”

That told much.

“That’s promising,” Jaime said as they exited the social services building. “The fostering situation, I mean. Although I’m hoping you won’t be too soft on them when they’re here,” he said with a pointed look.

Brienne waved him off. “I’m still not thrilled about going behind the official channels to make it happen,” she grumbled as they made their way to his car. 

He shrugged and grinned. “Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, Mrs. Lannister.”

She suppressed a shiver. They had officially been married for less than a month, but they only planned to move into the house together, retaining their own apartments until then. There was no rush to share space. Especially not a bed.

“I’m not changing my name,” Brienne declared as she opened the passenger door. He looked a bit taken aback, but said nothing as they slipped in the car. Still, she felt the need to justify her decision. “It would bring a lot more attention if I started to introduce myself as a Lannister, and since it’s only temporary, it would be a lot of paperwork hassle both times.”

“Sounds fair.” Jaime appeared completely unconcerned as he backed the car out of the parking space. She briefly wondered if he would have the same reaction if they have been married for real.

_ For love _ , she reminded herself. They  _ were _ married for real, just not... as a romantic couple.

 

***

 

A meeting was organized in the following weeks at the social services office of Wickendon, following statements by the sisters that they didn’t feel welcome with the Baelishes anymore. Nothing Petyr said had made it any better with his wife, who was still adamant about both of the girls being incorrigible brats that would ruin her sweet, precious Robin.

Sansa was sporting the remnants of a black eye, and Jaime easily recognized that she had guts. She was slender and pretty, and seemed concerned with her appearance: risking herself into a fight she wasn’t quite built for had probably taken some solid determination, whatever had been the cause of the altercation.

The teenager happily hugged Brienne after a suspicious glance in his direction, under the frowns of their guardians and the watchful eye of their social workers. His new wife seemed to graciously accept Arya’s refusal to approach them, though he knew she was disappointed.

They had not been informed of their recent marital status, and he wondered what they thought of his presence.

“You’re Jaime Lannister,” the youngest stated accusingly after they sat down. The Baelishes had recognized him as well, and stared suspiciously, as if he could deny any of it.

Before he could confess, Brienne spoke up. “He is, and also my - my husband,” she said as she placed a hand on his arm.

Shrill laughter escaped out of Lysa’s throat as everyone turned towards her. “ _ Married? _ To  _ you _ ?” Petyr tried to pat her hand to get her to calm down, but she snatched it away with a glare. Apparently, she had not yet forgiven him for bringing troublemakers into her home.

That had the fortunate effect of making her stop laughing. “Indeed, and I dare say I've made a judicious choice,” Jaime replied coldly. “We’re on the same wavelength about so many things.”

The couple didn’t take kindly to that unsubtle swing at their lack of synchronicity, but Sansa spoke up before they could add anything.

“My sister and I no longer feel wanted in the Baelishes’ home,” she stated calmly.

Lysa was seated farthest from her, probably wisely. She hunched over the table menacingly. “Well if you weren’t behaving like a little skank - “ she hissed at the teenager.

“ _ Enough _ !” The social worker had remained quiet until then, but she had no issue commanding everyone’s attention. “Mrs. Baelish, if you can’t act civilly, you will have to leave this meeting.”

The lady sneered, but remained silent and unmoving, under her husband’s disapproving glare.

“Sansa, what happened to your eye?” Brienne seemed genuinely worried, and the girl lowered her gaze, as if ashamed.

“I got into a fight.” When nothing else was added, Brienne reached across the table, placing her huge hand over the teenager’s. There was a hint of flinching, Jaime noticed, but she didn’t withdraw from the touch.

They locked eyes, two wildly different shades of blue, and an understanding seemed to pass. 

“There was a guy who kept bullying a younger kid. I - I told the teachers, but they never did anything about it. So... I did.”

If there was something that would excuse her behaviour in his wife’s eyes, something that chivalrous was sure to do it, Jaime thought. A thin smile appeared on Brienne’s lips, and she seemed to force herself to look both disapproving and understanding.

“I get it, but it’s still not the right solution.”  _ Not always _ , she meant. Sansa had a shy smile and a nod, but didn’t argue.

Petyr seized the occasion. “Well, now that we can agree that it was inappropriate behaviour, I’m certain that we can make this work. There is not need for - “

“We want to leave.” Arya had been staring at Jaime silently the whole time, but shifted to Brienne as she spoke up. He’d been told about how cold the young girl had been acting, and he knew that Brienne would take it upon herself to win her affection back, by any means necessary. She indeed sat straighter as she answered, maintaining the uncomfortably intense eye contact.

“Jaime and I would be happy to have you both with us,” she said with sincerity. He wondered if she had to convince herself of the part about him. “We’re just finishing renovations on a house just outside of King’s Landing, and we’ll be moving in soon. There is plenty of space for you two if you wished to come live with us.”

Arya’s expression never changed, but Sansa’s smile seemed contained when she answered. “I would love that.”

Her younger sister continued to observe Brienne without a word, before glancing suspiciously at Jaime again. She looked ever so briefly at Sansa, as well, and Jaime detected a hint of worry in her eyes. But she simply shrugged, and addressed the social worker.

“Okay.”

The relief on Brienne’s face was palpable, much like the anger on Baelish’s. He scoffed, rising from his chair in a huff.

“After all we’ve done for you two. Unbelievable.”

His wife followed suit, though she seemed a bit confused, as if she was just then realizing how her getting what she had wanted was the exact opposite to what her husband had been trying to achieve. They walked out of the room, and the social worker smiled at everyone remaining.

“Well then. I’ll be organizing the transfer. We’ll get your things out of their house, and we’ll have you placed with another family temporarily,” she told the girls, “until you’re ready to take them on,” she added, looking at Brienne and Jaime. “My mother happens to be a certified foster parent, and I’m fairly certain that she would be thrilled to watch over them both, providing they behave.” Her tone was a warning, though she seemed to know it wasn’t needed.

Everyone prepared to depart. As Brienne got another hug from Sansa and a cold shoulder from Arya, Jaime walked over to the Baelishes, who were finalizing the paperwork that would relieve them of their guardianship.

They both looked wary at he approached, he noticed, satisfied.

“I’m assuming that you understand how privacy will be crucial to the girls’ well-being,” he said expectantly. “Being chased by paparazzi because their new guardian has a famous name could be  _ damaging _ , and would result in very  _ unfortunate _ consequences.”

While Lysa looked subdued, Petyr tried to pretend he could hold his own while facing him, but he didn’t have nearly enough guts to properly do so. He finally caved with a curt nod, and pulled his wife along towards the exit. 

Jaime smirked, though he suspected that the man would likely try to use knowledge of the whole situation as blackmail or bargaining chip at some point. Turning back towards Brienne and the kids, he met her concerned eyes, and simply shrugged in answer. She probably wouldn’t let up until he told her, but it could wait until they were alone in the car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happeniiiiiiing
> 
> It's smooth sailing from now on, right? They got what they wanted. Gon' be super easy :D
> 
> Oh wait, I have 20 more chapters to this story ~
> 
> Next chapter on Sunday! I'm very excited for that one :3


	13. Plot Twist

**_ROBERT “BOBBY” BARATHEON FOUND DEAD IN HIS BED_**

  


**_CERSEI LANNISTER-BARATHEON ARRESTED AFTER COUSIN’S CONFESSION_**

  


**_ROCKY MARRIAGE ENDING IN BLOOD:_**

**_THE BARATHEONS’ FIGHTS ALWAYS FORETOLD OF MURDER_**  
  
---  
  
 

“I think you can understand that I don’t particularly wish to be out in public at this time,” Jaime let out flatly.

“I think you can understand that we _really_ need to talk.”

Brienne heard him sigh on the other end of the line, could almost see him frowning, eyes shut, rubbing that spot on his brow. “Fine,” he finally agreed after a silence, “meet me at the house in an hour?”

 

***

 

The renovations were well underway, and would be completed within the deadlines they had set for the contractors. They would be ready to move in with the girls by mid-December, just in time for the Solstice celebrations.

Jaime arrived some time after her, late, surely avoiding the paparazzi who would be extremely alert for a Lannister twin on the move. He joined her in the kitchen, surrounded by wrapped appliances and equipment. There was nowhere to sit, as the decorators would only start bringing actual furniture in the week before the move, so they awkwardly leaned against the kitchen islands.

He hadn’t shaved in a few days, looking tired and somewhat gaunt, or as close to it as a man of his built could get. Wary, too. He probably knew that whatever the coming conversation would yield could change a lot of things for both of them.

“Do you know if she did it?”

The way he closed his eyes, he’d been expecting the question. Of course he had. Had his sister murdered her husband? He would probably hear that for the rest of his life, regardless of what the verdict of judge and jury would be.

“It appears that she did,” came as an unexpected answer, however. Jaime met her eyes with a mix of sadness, exhaustion, and some sort of apprehension that needled at her.

This could radically alter their situation. Prospective foster parent’s family involved in a murder case? Not an ideal choice for the child protective services.

“This... this changes things,” he said, looking down at his hands, as if reading her mind.

Annulling the marriage would be possible, but they’d have to deal with selling the house to pay back the loan she’d just taken to buy it, and the girls -

“We have to take the kids.”

For a moment, Brienne blinked silently at him, trying to find how taking Arya and Sansa suddenly became an imperative, considering the situation. When he looked up again, his expression was pleading.

“...you mean Tommen and Myrcella,” she stated. He said nothing, but his jaw was set.

Tommen was only eight, Myrcella slightly older by a bit over a year. They’d just lost their father in a terribly violent way, and they would be followed by similar whispers as Jaime: had their mother really killed their dad?

“They have no one else,” he started, his voice taut. “Tyrion is not parent material at this time. Renly is far too immature to take on children with that kind of baggage,” he added, softening. She knew that he hoped she would agree on that, despite her obvious crush on the man. “That leaves Stannis, my father, or us.”

“So there _are_ other options.”

“You’ve never met Tommen.”

She frowned. They had not been introduced, but she didn’t expect that a child could cause so much trouble for either of the men. They were already fathers in their own rights.

“Tommy is... He’s the sweetest boy you’ll ever meet. He loves to draw, to play with every cat he meets, to play with his sister. To watch anthills. He cries way too easily. He’s - “ Jaime’s voice threatened to crack. “He’s innocent. And the last thing I would want for him is to lose that to the hands of men like Stannis or my father.”

Tywin Lannister had always had a reputation for holding a tight grip on his children, and Brienne couldn’t fault Jaime for being apprehensive of the life his nephew would have. But he would be a grandfather then, which was a role that often differed from direct parenthood. When she tried to say as much, she was interrupted.

“I’ve seen him around the kids. He’s not going to be any softer than he was on me.” The bitterness in that statement was palpable. “And Stannis! His daughter has been sick for years, and he hasn’t shown her any mercy in what he expects of her. I’ve seen them, Brienne. We can’t let the kids go to them.”

They stared at each other in silence. Despite her arguing, she had known from the start that he was right: it was a logical choice. They’d have a house with a bedroom and a yard and a pool, away from the cruel whispers of the city. They’d have other children to play with, who would understand the loss they’d suffered.

“That’s four kids, Jaime.”

He shrugged with a half-smile. “The more the merrier?”

Closing her eyes, Brienne rubbed her temples. Four kids. They’d have to drive all of them to school, each pair of kids registered in different institutions: they’d have to get bigger cars to be able to get them all to and from  all at once. Neither of them had ever cooked for six people before. All the appointments. The house was more than big enough, but it would still be a logistical nightmare on most days. They’d have to share a bedroom, instead of Sansa and Arya having their own.

Something clicked.

“Did you know this would happen?”

Jaime frowned at her question, but averted his eyes, swallowing hard. He’d understood her meaning.

“Did you expect to have to take Cersei’s children at some point? Is that why you planned all this?”

When he didn’t look up again, Brienne scoffed in frustration. She felt conned. Now that she had signed for the loan and the house, she was pretty much trapped. Not to mention that the alternative was to keep four children from having a stable, loving home.

“Not like this,” finally came his reply in a quiet, disheartened voice. “I’d have stopped her if I had known she would go that far. And I couldn’t well say anything about it, considering the stakes,” he added with a pointed look.

“Because you didn’t trust me.” He had married her, giving her access to his wealth and his network, but he couldn’t be honest about the reason he was doing any of it, even though it would affect her directly.

“When you’ve been in the spotlight for so long, it’s difficult to trust anyone and their friends.”

“Well, that can’t work in this situation.” He frowned at her, concerned. “We’re not an actual couple, but marriage _and_ parenting are about _partnership_ . And a partnership needs _trust_ to work and survive.” There was no way around it.

Jaime seemed unsure, and she suspected he was hiding a lot more. “I don’t need to learn about all of your innermost secrets,” she specified, noting tension leave his features as she did. “But if it’s going to affect me, affect _us_ and the kids, you’re going to have to come out with it.”

They stared at one another for a long moment, and she could tell that he was debating a couple of things. Finally, he shook his head, breaking eye contact. “We’re good.”

“Are you sure? Because Tommen and Myrcella are involved in this now. It’s not just me and children you don’t know.”

He met her gaze with resolve. “I’m sure.”

 

***

 

The Baratheon kids moved into Jaime’s apartment while they waited for the house to be ready. Brienne met them, creating a good enough diversion for Tommen to finally stop sobbing as he stared at her with wide eyes. Myrcella was putting on a braver face, though sadness and worry pierced through when they were left alone, as Jaime enrolled Tommen to help him with snacks.

“So you’re going to be our new mom?” the girl asked with what seemed to be disappointment. While it stung a bit, Brienne understood that the changes were terrifying for a child of that age, and that she had a limited understanding of the world.

“Foster mom,” she corrected. “You still have your mom, whatever happens. I’m not going to replace her, I’m just going to do her job for a while.” Though the prospect of Cersei’s conviction was real, there was little sense in painting a bleaker picture than necessary.

That seemed to lift Myrcella’s spirits a little, and she nodded with a small smile. She took after the Lannisters much, as did Tommen, with their headful of blond hair and especially fair traits. Her green eyes reminded Brienne of Jaime’s as she asked whether she liked horses, and they sparkled delightfully when she told the girl about the ranches on Tarth.

They spent the evening watching an animated movie about a dragon princess fighting an ice king and saving the world. The boy was a bit scared at first, but ended up asleep on Jaime’s lap by the middle of it; Myrcella managed to get through it all, huddled against Brienne’s side from the moment the dragons appeared.

It was quite staggering how it felt like they’d suddenly turned into a family. There was the uncertainty of the time it would last: if their mother was found innocent, which Jaime seemed to doubt, she would get them back. Five hours in, and Brienne already felt responsibility for children who were not her own.

She caught Jaime watching her, his expression undecipherable as he averted his eyes. In a way, it was good that he now had something concrete riding on this. She had felt vulnerable despite agreeing to the original plan, and this sort of equalized things a bit. She could feel that he wanted this to work as much as she did.

Myrcella hugged her fiercely when they finally transported the kids to the guest bedroom of Jaime’s apartment, making her smile. “Goodnight, darling,” she heard the girl whisper in her ear, and Brienne had the heartbreaking intuition that it was something Cersei would tell her at night.

Responding in kind, she kissed the top of her blond head, leaving the room quietly as a fast asleep Tommen was being slipped between the covers. She felt strangely choked up by the situation, and wondered if it was the wonders of parenthood kicking in.

She only have a few seconds to dwell on it, as Jaime came out after her, closing the door behind him. They stood in an awkward silence for a moment, before she turned away. “Well, I’ll be off then.”

He followed her to the foyer without a word, watching her put on her coat and boots. She gave him a short nod before heading for the door, before he cleared his throat and spoke up.

“We’re, uh, going to go furniture shopping next weekend, so they can choose for their room. I think that they’d like it if you - if you came along.”

Brienne realized that she’d felt a bit like an intruder until then. Arya and Sansa were her mission, as they had been the sole reason she’d entered that deal in the first place; Tommen and Myrcella were about the same for Jaime. Not that they could really separate things that easily once they moved in all together, but they each had established relationships already that would keep each pair closer to one foster parent. Having _his_ kids accept her so readily had surprised her, and she worried that she might be taking something away from him.

The realization that they hadn’t discussed what that new situation would mean for their eventual separation hit her then. It was not the right time for such a discussion, and she assumed that he might have thought about it as well, but not said anything to her, either.

“Sure. Just let me know when and where,” she agreed.

They said goodnight, and as she sat in her freezing car, she understood that she hadn’t the faintest idea what she had gotten herself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized with all of the previous comments on other chapters that I wasn't foreshadowing this much XD But 
> 
> SURPRISE
> 
> FOUR KIDS FOR THE WEDDING PRICE OF TWO
> 
> And you finally get to know Jaime's motivation for marrying Brienne :)
> 
> The last chapters have been beta-ed and edited, so it's entirely done, but although I debated a LOT with it, I've decided to keep to the 2 chapters / week schedule for now. Even though I'm REALLY looking forward to you guys reading the last few ones :D


	14. Moving In

December came around, and as with every year for centuries, the first snowflakes. Brienne had packed most of her possessions save the bare necessities until the final move, and organized to donate some of her furniture to the next tenants of her flat, and the rest to charities. Jaime had offered to put everything in storage, but she’d argued that since she’d get the house when they parted and, presumably, its contents, there was no sense in keeping worn-out pieces.

She was not that sentimental about material things anyway. Most of them.

Having freed up her weekends from her second job, she used the opportunity to bring boxes to the house in a trickle, taking stock of the progress of the decorators. They had mostly dealt with Jaime when it had become clear to all, including herself, that she had little interest or investment in what the rooms looked like. He’d made sure to have her sign off on whatever they decided, and she always did, keeping in mind that if it ever turned out to be too unpleasant, they had the means to change it.

The house was always empty on Sundays, which she preferred for stopping by. She knew that very soon, it would rarely ever be quiet anymore, making those days a privileged moment to get used to her new home.

Located in a quiet, practically rural suburb of King’s Landing, it would be ideal to ensure privacy, which they had both agreed would be best for the kids. The nearest neighbour was a ten-minute walk away, and while the building itself was located in a clearing, tall trees blocked most of the view from the road, and from other inhabitants. They had discussed a security system, which Brienne wasn’t keen on, but Jaime had argued that the remoteness presented its own safety challenges. She’d had to agree.

She drove up the snow-dusted lane, wondering how much precipitation they would get in the area when winter came in earnest. They had a garage large enough for two cars, in which she parked to offload a few boxes, but they’d still need to make their way from it to the road.

The front door opened into a small mudroom, which would be especially practical in the colder months. It led into the lobby, open into the living room, with closets on the immediate left of the door, large enough to store everyone’s bulky coats. She left her boots to dry next to the bench across from them as she took in the newly furnished living room.

The walls were covered in various shades of grey stone tiles, with a light teal ceiling and darker rugs and curtains. A deep green, L-shaped sofa promised space for everyone to watch the flat-screen TV at the same time, while a four-seater below the large window would allow for hosting. 

Between them, double doors opened into Jaime’s office, and she could see from where she stood that they had yet to paint it with the blue-ish, dark grey he’d chosen. Her own office was across the living room, through a glass paneled door just before the kitchen’s.

She made her way towards it, setting one of her boxes on the varnished work station. It looked so expensive, she almost felt like her tattered laptop would be an insult to the very essence of it. Large panels of black wallpaper adorned the walls, with sizeable white and grey flowers lightening it up. Three windows gave enough natural light for the room not to feel constricting, despite the dark decorative tones.

Recalling how Jaime had insisted when she’d said she didn’t need a whole office, she nonetheless started transferring the files she’d salvaged from NorthStar into the numerous cabinets around the desk. If she ever took up organizing events again, like he had said she should, she’d have good archives and catalogues to refer to.

She glanced at the sofa in the corner before moving on. It converted into a bed large enough to fit either of them, and they were each getting one in their respective office. For the nights a single bed would prove too difficult to share.

Their bedroom, which was her next destination, was accessed from the kitchen, through a set of double doors. She couldn’t quite understand how Jaime had let the decorators go ahead with their idea. It was partially her fault for not speaking up about it, she reflected as she set a pair of boxes next to the deep closet, but...

The original plan had been to sleep in separate rooms altogether. Arya and Sansa were old and  _ savvy _ enough to understand that they weren’t a real couple, but that it should not be mentioned to anyone, lest it got back to social services.

With Tommen and Myrcella, and especially the former, it would have been a lot more difficult to explain, and both parents feared that the boy might accidentally let something slip, cause issues, and feel incredibly guilty for it.

All things considered, sharing a bed was not that much of a sacrifice to spare themselves all of that.

Brienne hadn’t felt comfortable engaging in the discussion about furnishing the room, as the pretense of being in an actual romantic relationship and decorating the room accordingly implied far more intimacy than she could deal with. Though she could have protested it to Jaime in private, she had feared the decorators might become suspicious. They were professionals and would probably not gab about it, but the fewer people had reason to suspect fraud, the better.

Consequently, they had chosen a dark grey, near-black wallpaper with crimson and lighter red accessories. The floor was light laminated pine, like in most of the ground floor areas, which provided a nice relief to the equally dark furniture. There was sensuality to the overall atmosphere, and she wondered if the decorators had somehow thought it necessary to their relationship.

She knew that the king-sized bed would never be roomy enough for her to quite feel at ease in it next to Jaime. The thought of sleepless, awkward nights spent staring at the ceiling nagged at her once again, bringing doubts about the whole project along. He would probably be disgusted to sleep next -

No.

The pattern had followed her since she had been old enough to understand the looks in the other kids’ eyes, and their parents’. She didn’t exist to please anyone, she reminded herself, taking her folded clothes out of the boxes, and hanging them neatly in the closet. Jaime knew what he was getting himself into, and he could always sleep elsewhere in the house if  _ he _ found it so inconvenient.

He might have paid for most of... everything, but the  _ original _ objective had been for Brienne to make a home for the kids. 

And she  _ would _ make a home for the kids. That was all that mattered.

She was almost done with her second box when excited voices from the living room caught her attention. Peeking her head through the kitchen’s glass paneled door, she was happily greeted by Tommen and Myrcella, carrying small boxes of their own after having summarily discarded their boots.

Jaime looked up from unlacing his boots with surprise, unshaved and windswept. “Hey,” he started. “I didn’t know you’d be here. We’re just - ”

“Yeah, we had the same idea,” she confirmed, pushing the kitchen door open for the kids rushing in as she smiled at their enthusiasm.

“Actually, could you keep an eye on them for a moment? I got more boxes in the car, and they just... won’t stop moving.”

Brienne chuckled at that, wondering how much they had worn him down already. “Sure.” She followed after them through the unfinished kitchen, and up the stairs to their bedroom.

The house comprised seven closed rooms, four of which were on the first floor. The largest one had been turned into a recreational area, with books and games and space for crafts and performance arts. The other three were bedrooms on the other side of the corridor: the Baratheons’ first, a guest room in the middle, and then the Starks’. There was a bathroom at each end of the dark mauve hallway, mirroring one another in their toilet-large sink-shower furnishings.

Myrcella and Tommen squeaked at the sight of their room, for which they had chosen a muted flax yellow and colourful accessories. They each had their own bed, desk, wardrobe and drawer, and Brienne saw that they’d already been bringing toys and clothes in.

“We went home to get more things,” the girl explained to seriously. “Not everything, because...” She looked up, and Brienne nodded in understanding. Contrarily to Sansa and Arya, they still had a living parent, whose fate was still undecided. Neither of their guardians thought there was much hope for Cersei’s liberation, but it seemed cruel to go against the children’s optimism.

Tommen was standing quite still, and Brienne found him staring sadly at a family picture he had placed on his desk. When he noticed her looking at him, he had a small smile before handing her the frame.

“We had gone to the fair,” he explained quietly. “Everyone recognized daddy. He wanted to have a picture of us taken, but the guards didn’t really want to get too far away.” She could see mean-looking men at the edges of the picture. Robert Baratheon had been the leader of the country, and a contested one in his last few years. His security team must have always been on edge in public.

Tommen looked to be about five in the photograph, the kids much happier than their mother seemed to be. Cersei appeared to have been annoyed, and if the redness of her husband’s cheeks was to be believed, his early inebriation was probably to blame.

The boy’s eyes glistened with new tears, and Brienne kneeled in front of him, arms open. He seemed to hesitate, and she prepared to accept his refusal gracefully when he spoke up.

“Grandpa says I have stop crying all the time,” he explained, dejected. She could see he tried really hard to contain himself, and understood then just how much better off the kids were away from Tywin Lannister.

“You’re allowed to be sad however you want in this house, okay?” Tommen looked up at her with a quivering chin. “When you need to cry, you cry, and uncle Jaime and I will always be there to help you get through it.”

His sister came close, wrapping her arms around his small frame, and he nodded, letting tears stream down his face. Brienne embraced both of them, reminding them that it would take time to get better and that it was normal.

Jaime found them like that, red-cheeked from carrying boxes out of the car and into the house, and then the ones he was still holding up the stairs. He spotted the picture that Brienne had placed back on the desk, and the expression on his face reminded her that the children were not the only ones to have lost something.

“It’s almost lunchtime,” he announced, setting his cargo down. “Do you want to go through all of this or go get food?” His suggestion was greeted with excited screams, which he made a show of pretending were hurting his ears, much to the kids’ amusement. “Alright then. Are you... coming along?” he asked tentatively, turning to Brienne.

“I want to ride in Brienne’s car!” Myrcella exclaimed, quickly followed by her brother’s agreement. They were far more enthusiastic about it than her tattered piece of junk warranted, she thought, but that would be one of the last opportunities they’d have at it. Once the new cars were ready, hers was going to find a new home in a scrap metal yard.

“I guess I am,” she agreed as the children jumped around her. They made their way back to the lobby, in an awkward atmosphere to which the kids were oblivious. In the whirlwind of everything since Robert’s death, they hadn’t really had the chance to sit down and discuss their new situation, or what it meant for the future. There was also the anticipation of moving in together, which he tried to act cool about, but she could see he was nearly as anxious as she was.

 

***

 

They decided on a small fast-food restaurant just outside of King’s Landing: going to one closer to the new house might have made people suspicious if they’d recognized Jaime or the children. He drove his own car, choosing a table in a corner while Brienne went up to the counter to order with Tommen and Myrcella. 

He watched her effortlessly lift the boy so he could see the overhead menu better, just after offering priority to another group of patrons who were ready to give their order. She was getting on very well with the kids, better than he had expected. They had taken to her immediately, though they had been taught early not to trust strangers because of their father’s position.

Perhaps they did so because their uncle appeared to trust her.

And he did. Everything about her - how she spoke, how she moved, how she’d look at you with those stupidly blue eyes - betrayed such...  _ honesty. _ To a fault, even, as their almost disastrous initial meeting with the new social worker had proven.

Brienne would put the children’s safety above all else, he was certain of that. Not just Arya and Sansa’s, though he had to admit there was somewhat of a divide. The girls had been her first objective, and they would probably remain her priority. Once they separated, Jaime assumed that he would seek custody of Cersei’s children, and she would keep the Starks. It was logical, really. Tommen and Myrcella seemed already quite attached to Brienne, though, and while he didn’t think she would try to force joint custody, he anticipated that they would want to keep in touch with her.

He could work with that. She wasn’t bad company, as far as he had seen, and he hoped the two of them would get along well enough living together. They didn’t need to become best friends, but they  _ would _ have to coexist for a while.

His party returned with the food after a short while, a platter full in each child’s care under Brienne’s watchful eyes. He unwrapped the burger she had ordered for him, observing her fuss over napkins and ketchup.

Clearly she was aware of his studying her, as a deep blush crept up her neck, but she busied herself for a long time before she finally met his eyes. He smiled, amused but strangely moved, and she averted her eyes.

Later, as the kids took place back in his car, he approached her as she closed the back passenger door after her goodbyes.

“I wasn’t mocking you, earlier,” he offered, hoping it sounded as sincere as he felt. “I was just thinking that - ” 

For a second he was lost in the sea of her eyes and the apprehensiveness in them. It suddenly became crucial to him that she know he wouldn’t hurt her on purpose. Though he had no idea how to actually, truly convince her of that.

“ - that you’re going to be a pretty great mom,” he managed to finish, averting his gaze. He’d noticed the blush rush back to her cheeks, although it might have been the cold.

“...thanks. You seem to be doing a pretty good job yourself so far,” she attempted. He smiled.

“I’ve spoiled them way too much since I got them.”

“I told them they should expect that to change, while we were waiting for the food inside.” He looked at her curiously, and though she seemed confident enough, her blush appeared to deepen. “They were pretty understanding about it, though they’re kids. Anything’s possible when a bad day comes around. I’m expecting a few you're-not-our-moms in time.”

He nodded in agreement, though he’d pretty much always seen his niblings in excellent behaviour. But things had changed.

Jaime bid her goodbye, taking his seat in the car. The kids quietly played with the toys they’d received with their meals for several minutes, until Myrcella spoke up.

“I like her.”

In the mirror, he could see Tommen nodding vigorously, making him smile. “Good. She’s going to be around for a while.”

The girl fell silent again for a moment, then, “Do you think mommy will come back?”

He didn’t want to lie, but the truth was difficult for an eight- and a nine-years-old. Cersei was responsible for the death of the head of the country. The trial was not going to be as straightforward as it would have been for an ordinary, unhappy wife having enough of her husband. She had been denied bail, and an aggressive investigation had already gathered significant evidence following the confession of complicity of their cousin Lancel Lannister. Despite Bobby Baratheon not being anywhere close to beloved by his citizens, the public was out for blood. It wasn’t looking good.

“We’ll see,” he answered his niece. “It’s quite complicated.”

He saw Myrcella nod in the mirror, looking out of the window.  _ She looks so much like her mother._ Tommen didn’t look much happier, and Jaime couldn’t help but think they understood a lot more than he hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [HERE](http://wauryd.tumblr.com/post/173049416698/planning-for-life-chapter-14-moving-in) is a Tumblr post with the floor plans and room pictures, if you're wondering what the house looks like :D
> 
> The next few chapters are a bit slower. Moving in, getting used to the new home, new routine... You know, domestic stuff :)
> 
> Next update on Sunday!


	15. The Beginning

Moving everyone into the house went surprisingly well, considering they were bringing four different households together. While Jaime finished bringing his own things and his niblings’, Brienne drove up to the Vale in one of their new minivans to get Sansa and Arya, accompanied by Ygritte, their case worker in King’s Landing. They’d meet Dacey at her mother’s house, where the girls had been living for nearly two months.

From what Brienne had heard, they had been on their best behaviour since.

The drive to the Vale seemed to take forever, as Ygritte was apparently intent to weaselling information out of Brienne regarding her marriage to Jaime. Deflecting was not an easy task, and she finally made use of the tactic he had recommended: if lying was too difficult to do convincingly, pretend that the whole situation is a fictional story that you’re describing to someone else.

“That’s exactly what lying is,” Brienne had argued.

“It’s all a question of perception,” he had explained. “You’re going to be lying anyway, but we need you to do it  _ convincingly _ . We need to have your mind  _ think _ that it’s not a lie, so you don’t give it away.”

Younger, when her crush on Renly Baratheon had not yet been, well,  _ crushed _ , she had imagined all of what their relationship could have been. Without telling Jaime - she felt he would have mercilessly made fun of her for it - she’d used that as a foundation to construct the story she now told when people asked about her marriage.

She’d made it more believable, of course: she was not a little girl anymore, and much of it couldn’t have applied to her actual husband. Still, it worked well enough, though she suspected that nothing short of the truth would ever have Ygritte believe her.

Sansa had greeted her excitedly, but Arya had remained impassible. It was not quite the moment to talk it out, nor did Brienne want to have her feel trapped by forcing the conversation in the car. But there would need to be a discussion as to why the girl seemed so angry at her.

Happily blabbing through the car ride back to King’s Landing, the oldest talked about the latest music and books and movies and TV shows she had gotten into. Ygritte held most of the other end of the conversation, thankfully, as Brienne focused on the road, lost in her own thoughts.

She wondered how they would fare, as co-parents. Both she and Jaime knew that it would probably be quite different than they imagined, but they had established base rules: they wouldn’t argue in front of the kids, and the first one to made a decision would have it upheld until they could discuss the matter in private, if they didn’t agree. A general routine had been outlined, though they knew it would have to be adapted to the reality that would come to life as time went on.

Surely, they could work everything out. A lot of parents separated, but generally it was because their romantic relationship could not be maintained. That wouldn’t be a problem for them.

Tommen and Myrcella were jumping up and down at the living room window when Brienne pulled into the driveway in the early evening. The children had been very excited at the thought of having new siblings, and both their guardians hoped that everyone would get along. There was no other option, really.

“Welcome!” Tommen all but shouted when they opened the door into the lobby. He was held back by his sister, else he might have jumped on the newcomers and hugged them before they were through the door frame.

Arya seemed impressed, though she said nothing. The house was significantly bigger than the one they had had with their family in Winterfell, Brienne knew. It was not as luxurious as the Baelishes’, but that was not the goal, either.

Sansa looked a bit dismayed that they were so far out of the city. Trips would have to be planned and arranged, and there was not all that much to do in the nearby town. Brienne assured her that since they had two cars, and were two adults, it would never be much of a problem. She kept the  _ I hope _ part to herself.

“Hello, ladies. There’s hot chocolate in the kitchen for you.” Jaime appeared cool, but once again, Brienne could tell he was a bit nervous. There were already hints of grey visible through the golden blond of the beard he’d chosen to let grow. He had hoped this would make him look more like an amenable, paternal figure. Brienne hadn’t laughed when he’d explained, but she’d come close.

Tommen and Myrcella showed the Stark girls around the house, as they had had many occasions to familiarize themselves early on. Brienne was relieved to see Arya interact normally with the siblings, and she hoped it boded well for the rest of their relationship. They had timed the move with the end of their fall semester at school, so they would have a few weeks to get accustomed to their new home and family before taking on a busier routine.

 

***

 

The Winter Solstice rolled around quickly, though celebrations were not as happy as they could have been for the Baratheons, their mood dampened by the absence of their own parents. Bringing the children along to see their mother in prison would be a bad move, Jaime believed, and Brienne had agreed. He said very little of his own visit to her when he returned, though he carefully hid how disheartened he was from the kids.

Though the observance of the Solstice would not quite be complete without presents, there had been little time to shop with all the preparations for the move. Consequently, apart from a few toys and books that were sure to be a hit, the children were given gift cards with the promise of a trip to the city before the holidays were over.

“It’s going pretty well so far,” Jaime ventured to Brienne as the kids were all settled in front of a movie in the living room, two weeks after the move. He had been cleaning up after their meal, and she took up a dish cloth to towel off the pans he’d left to dry.

“So far,” she agreed. “But we’ve been mostly holed up in here. It’s going to be a lot different when school starts again.”

They stayed quiet for a moment, as he cleaned off the table and finished filling the dishwasher, turning it on. He leaned back against the kitchen island behind him, and looked like he wanted to breach a subject.

When he didn’t speak up, Brienne did. “What’s wrong?”

“What happens when we divorce?” He glanced at the kitchen door, through which they could see the kids quietly watching their film. “ _ When  _ do we divorce?”

“What do you mean?” Brienne frowned, but turning his question in her head, she understood.

“Beginning the process to adopt the Stark girls was going to be our cue to separate. With Cersei’s children, it’s going to be a lot more complicated to retain guardianship  _ and  _ split.”

“We don’t know if we’ll be keeping Tommy and Ella,” she argued. The trial would take place in late January. Not that she was eager to return the children, not to their murderous mother nor to anyone else, really, but that was a possibility.

Jaime stared at her. “They’ve been having her take psychiatric evaluations, because she’s been acting pretty erratic. I’m not sure there will  _ be _ a trial, but then it would mean that she’d be institutionalized.”

That was new. She hadn’t expected him to tell her about all the details he was privy to, as Cersei’s brother, but that was pretty major.

“I’m fairly certain social services would have no problem with the kids remaining with you after we separate.” She placed the pans back at their place in the cupboards. “You’re their closest relative anyway.”

“Can we really take that risk? What if they say they want to stay with you?”

This was getting annoying. “Why would they?” However much they liked her, it would make no sense for them to choose her over Jaime. “What else do you expect? That we stay together until they’re all grown up?” He shook his head, and she was glad he was not considering it.

Sharing a bed had been awkward so far. They had woken up leaning against one another on several occasions, embracing in one. Jaime had tried to rationalize it. “We’re stressed. We’re seeking warmth and contact. That’s entirely natural, and it doesn’t mean anything.” He had made it clear that there was nothing they could do about it, apart from building a wall of pillows that had never held. “We’ll have to get used to it.”

Dressing and undressing routines were still to be adjusted, Jaime caring very little about her walking in on him, though he did make an effort not to do the same to her.

_ Figures _ , her mind had piped up.  _ He wouldn’t want to see that. _

Overall, she was simply very much looking forward to not having to share intimate space with him, and Jaime bringing into question the length of their agreement worried her.

“They won’t like that we’ll be separating the kids,” he argued.

“Again: what do you expect us to do?”

“ _ I don’t know _ . That’s what I’m trying to discuss with you!”

Brienne hung the dishcloth back on its rack before turning to him with a sigh. “I don’t have an answer, Jaime. We’ll have to figure it out when the time comes. Ask the social workers what they think of it, when it’s been long enough.”

She could tell it actually worried him from his posture, even if he seemed to resolve himself to accept her answer for now. He watched the children through the kitchen door, still engrossed in their movie. “I just don’t want to screw it up. For anyone.”

Observing him for a moment, she walked past him, briefly placing a reassuring hand on his arm on her way. “We won’t. We’ve got time. We’ll figure it out,” she repeated.

She joined the children in the living room, just as they cheered for the victory of the knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, there has been so much going on in my life, I almost forgot to post this tonight >.< Good thing it's all already written!
> 
> They already trust one another (half because they _have_ to, half because they feel they can), but we'll see if that trust will be able to weather... _challenges_ :3
> 
> Also, how ironic that I've titled the near-middle chapter "The Beginning" XD


	16. Settling In

Sansa had just started secondary school before their move, so she and Arya started in separate institutions in mid-January. The buildings were thankfully close to one another, which helped to reduce commuting time for all of them.

Myrcella and Tommen resumed going to the same private school, though they had missed the end of the fall semester due to the tragedy. They were anxious at the idea of going back, but Jaime had made sure that they received support from their teachers, including keeping an eye on would-be bullies who might try to bring up the actions of their mother.

Everyone settled well enough into their new routine. Brienne and Jaime were up by six, mostly out of personal habit, preparing a quick breakfast for themselves and outlining the day’s plans as they ate.

She went for a run first, returning by seven, at which point the kids were roused up. Jaime started breakfast while she showered, and she took over once done, packing the lunches they’d already prepared the night before. He would go for his own run for about half an hour, clean up, usually finished in time to say goodbye to the kids.

There had been initial worries about the accessibility of the house during heavy snowfalls, but they had hired a snow removal company specializing in more rural areas. Unless the accumulation neared apocalyptic levels, the Night Watch guaranteed that they would be able to make their way out in the morning.

Brienne would drive all of the kids to their respective schools, then herself to work. Once or twice per week, she joined some of them for lunch. She would have happily done it every day, but she figured that staying with their classmates might help them settle it.

In the meantime, depending on the day, Jaime either stayed home, cleaning a bit, cooking, and working on his projects, or left around nine to go to the Kingsguard’s offices. He’d reduced his involvement in the firm, though nearly everyone there had been baffled by his choice. Sure, they didn’t need the money, but they could have easily paid for both a cleaner and someone to help with the kids.

He generally refused to explain himself. His siblings and himself had grown up with maids and nannies, and he rather wished they hadn’t. Taking the kids in had been done in order to give them a home, and a family. Until such time as their situation changed, that would be his priority. And Brienne, still stubbornly wanting to pay for half of the house despite the development of their situation, wanted to keep her job. They could balance that out between the both of them.

In the afternoon, Jaime would come get the kids once school ended, dispatching those who had activities scheduled, and returning home with the rest.

Each child had a weekly appointment with a therapist, on different days; Arya had wanted to start football, which they were glad to let her do, in hopes that it would help both with her endless levels of energy and her lack of discipline. Tommen had shyly mentioned joining the theater group, but they were still working on convincing him to try, assuring him that it would be both a great learning experience and a ton of fun.

Brienne picked up whoever was still in the city at the end of her work day, usually getting home by six, in time for the dinner that Jaime would have prepared.

Everyone helped clear out dishes when they were done eating, after which any remaining due homework and lessons were done, with either adult available for help. Showers and quiet activities ended the night, and all children were in bed by eight thirty on school nights, with an extra hour on weekends.

“Brienne, where are my gym shoes?”

“Arya, give me my phone back!”

“Can I go to Jeyne’s after school?”

“Uncle Jaime, did you see my homework? I left it on the table last night.”

Wednesdays were the busiest. Myrcella saw the therapist, Arya had practice, and Sansa had taken to request being dropped at the city library until Brienne finished work. That left Jaime alone with Tommen after school, and he’d started bringing him to the numerous art museums of King’s Landing.

The boy had always loved drawing and artful endeavours in general, though it had never really been encouraged by his parents. Jaime knew that Robert, especially, had had a drastically different view of what his son should become, but that was not something either of his guardians wished to uphold. The therapist who followed him had agreed, and on numerous occasions, his drawings had been the center of their session.

“Shoes with the rest of your gym clothes in the closet, in the lobby.”

“Arya, leave your sister’s stuff alone!”

“Are you taking the bus with her? You have to be ready to leave from her house at a quarter past, I’ll call when I leave work.”

“It’s back in your school bag, Tommy. Did you need me to look at it?”

Lovers’ Day came around, a holiday already awkward for Brienne any other year, but made even weirder by the younger kids’ insistence that they should decorate and celebrate their foster parents’ relationship. Arya and Sansa even played along, and the house transformed into a war zone, full of pink, red and white paper hearts stuck to everything the children could reach.

Jaime had been amused at first, despite her glares, and encouraged them until the kids clamoured for them to kiss. He blinked for a moment in astonishment, not having expected them to request anything like that, but Brienne’s smug and annoyed expression clearly told that she had.

He kissed her cheek, an innocuous gesture that still produced one of her spectacular blushes, but even Tommen protested that it didn’t count. Jaime tried to deflect it by saying that it was really all they were old enough to see, at which point Sansa told all her siblings to cover their eyes, and she’d make sure they did do it.

They had both thought she would simply pretend that they had, but the teenager stood there, arms crossed, waiting with a smirk. Brienne mouthed _traitor!_ with a shocked expression. Understanding that there was no getting out of it, Jaime sighed, pulled his wife so she faced him, and giving her about two seconds’ notice - long enough for her to decide not to slap him - he kissed her.

It was a chaste one, rather quick, but real enough. The blush was in full force before it ended, as was all of the kids’ applause, as they quickly peeked despite their sister’s order.

The rest of the day had gone on normally for the most part, until they were back in their bedroom, getting ready to sleep. She had been acting awkwardly around him since the kiss, and he hoped that she would get over it quickly. That would probably not be the only time it would have to happen.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” The answer came briskly, after she started at the sound of his voice.

“Brienne, it’s - “

“I know.” She looked at him, making eye contact for the first time since that afternoon. “It’s part of it.” The blue pools of her eyes held something that looked like regret, but Jaime couldn’t quite identify the source of it. She did not seem open to the idea of discussing her feelings, which would have been fine with him if it didn’t seem to get in the way of their pretense. She looked miserable enough, however, and he let it go.

 

***

 

Cersei’s trial had been postponed, following a request for further psychiatric tests. The danger of getting convicted of treason was real, as it might result in a death sentence, and Jaime had no doubt that her team of defence lawyers had probably thought being deemed mentally unfit would be the better outcome. Even if it got her into a psychiatric institution instead of a jail.

“I’ve been asked to testify for her, if it goes to trial,” he informed Brienne one evening, watching the last few snowflakes of winter hit their bedroom windows. Spring would show up soon enough.

She didn’t answer from her side of the bed, prompting him to turn to look at her. She sat, frowning, waiting for him to go on. A woman of few words, as always.

“I don’t think I should. It’s going to bring attention to us,” he explained.

So far, the very few publications that had mentioned anything of their arrangements had assumed that Brienne was hired to help with the children. The stories about the Starks’ demise, nearly two years prior, had died down, and no one seemed to take much notice that both she and Jaime were also caring for other kids than the Baratheons.

While further interest was a genuine concern, knowing the potential outcome made it difficult for him to morally justify not defending his sister, to himself or anyone else. Cersei had not killed out of political ambition: she was a miserable, bitter wife who hadn’t seen another way. Even if there had been plenty other options.

Brienne stayed quiet for a moment, observing him. The relationship they’d established so far was based on their joint commitment to the children, and while she was sometimes irritatingly naive, he trusted her judgement. And her honesty.

“Do you feel that’s right?” she finally asked.

 _She knows_ , he realized. She understood his turmoil. He was really asking for her blessing to do something that might threaten their situation, and she was giving it.

“No,” he answered softy. Averting his eyes, he sighed, sitting on the bed, his back to her. _How did it go so wrong?_ he wondered for the hundredth time, running his hands over his face, and through his hair, trying to chase the discomfort. _How could she ruin everything_? He was angry at Cersei, for choosing a shitty way out and, selfishly, even angrier at her for getting caught.

Brienne came to sit by his side after a while. It took her some time to speak, and he knew she struggled to find the right words, just as he did. If there really were any.

“I... can’t know how you feel,” she started, softly. “My priority is the kids, but then I have little else in my life that might interfere with that.” She paused, and he looked at her. “She’s your sister, but she’s also Ella’s and Tommy’s mother. We can’t - there is a limit to what we can do to help, in this situation. But,” she studied her hands for a moment, “I don’t think we can claim to care for them, and not at least attempt to help her,” she finished, meeting his eyes again. ”Regardless of whether she merits a death sentence for what she did, the kids certainly don’t deserve to also have their mother die.”

Jaime hadn’t missed how she’d used _we_ rather than _you_. He had a small nod, and she smiled sadly. Though she had no sibling to ever put her into a similarly heartbreaking position, she was making clear that she was with him.

They finished getting ready for bed in a companionable silence, but he hesitated to slip into bed as she closed the bathroom door. Instead, he busied himself with choosing his clothes for the next day, laying them out on the dresser next to the bathroom door.

When she came out, their eyes met, and a wave of mixed emotions - relief, confusion, heartache, gratitude - flooded him. Brienne’s expression turned into the compassionate one he’d often seen when she listened to the children’s woes, and he looked away as they wrapped their arms around one another.

Gods, she was strong! Her embrace almost comfortably encompassed his shoulders, and there was a warmth in it he hadn’t realized he craved. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, and without thinking he buried his face in her shoulder. A brief moment of unease almost made him pull away, but she leaned her head against his, stroking his back gently until his own heartbeat returned to a more normal rhythm.

Brienne smiled shyly when they parted, and he nodded silently in thanks. She was about to round the bed back to her side when she stopped with an reproachful look.

“Jaime.”

“Yeah?” What had he done in those two seconds?

“Please pick up your dirty clothes.”

In the few months they had been sharing a house, that had been the main point of contention between them. He had argued that it didn’t matter, they would be picked up in the morning. She had woven a tale of tripping in the middle of the night, in the dark, and needing stitches.

He sighed, she gave him the same look she always did, and he obliged, making a show of it. It felt juvenile, but she smiled, shaking her head, and they finally slipped into bed.

It took some time for sleep to come for either of them, he knew, watching the silhouette of her shoulders and back rise with her breaths. They had become slow and relaxed for a few minutes when he felt himself drift as well.

“Thank you,” he whispered, knowing he should have said it out loud earlier. He hoped she knew.

 

***

 

In the end, Cersei was declared unfit for trial, stirring a rage in the media that Jaime knew would die quickly enough. While her crime had been heinous, Bobby Baratheon had been a drunk and, in his last years, a bad administrator. Though the public had been quick to praise his memory, his successor’s decisions were already highlighting the many issues there had been with his leadership.

Cersei had been remanded to the Targaryen Institute for a year of treatment, after which her mental state would be reevaluated. The charges for treason had been effectively dodged, though her reputation could never entirely recover.

Tommen and Myrcella spent nearly a month having their recess and lunch time in company of teachers, as the children’s peers easily turned vicious at the news, egged on by their parents. When the bullying showed no sign of letting up, the decision was made to pull them out, finishing their school year through home education. Jaime cancelled his involvement in several projects he’d started at Kingsguard so that he was only required to visit the office a few times a month, while the children spent time with Tyrion.

They saw their therapist twice weekly, but their mood remained understandably somber.

“Where are they gonna go after the summer?” Arya asked one spring night at dinner. Neither guardian really wanted to discuss it in front of everyone, especially as they didn’t quite have an answer yet. Enrolling them in another institution might produce the same results, but keeping them home would isolate them.

“We don’t know yet,” Brienne answered carefully. “There are still months - “

“Why aren’t they coming to my school?”

That had been an obvious option from the start, but it bore the same risks as any other. Still, Myrcella and Tommen looked from Brienne to Arya with shyly hopeful eyes.

Before any of the adults could find a reply, the girl spoke again. “I won’t let any of the kids bully them,” she stated, as if it solved everything.

Jaime exchanged a look with Brienne. Both of Arya’s foster siblings were in awe of her boldness. Her not only speaking up on their behalf, but also inviting them into her world seemed to have an effect neither parent had anticipated.

“Well that’s certainly an option,” Jaime conceded. “It _would_ make the commute easier.”

Brienne shot him a warning look while Arya gave her opinion on her teachers and the general amenities offered at her school, but Jaime simply shrugged with a smile.

When she cornered him alone after they were all done cleaning, simply staring at him with an expression that strongly invited him to explain himself, he grinned. “I didn’t promise anything,” he argued, “but go ahead and tell me this is not the happiest we’ve seen them in nearly two months.”

“It is,” she agreed with a sigh, “but you know that it’s not necessarily how that works. What makes them happiest _now_ isn’t always the best choice. You might be getting their hopes up.”

“I’m getting their mood up. I doubt that whatever decision we do make will take them back into that dark hole, however disappointed they are with it.”

She seemed unconvinced, but didn’t argue further. Instead, she frowned. “Have you noticed... how Sansa has been extremely quiet in the past few weeks? She swears that everything is fine, but...”

“Yeah. It’s been bugging me too,” he admitted, recalling dinner. They really weren’t close, so he hadn’t expected her to open up to him, but Brienne worrying made the situation even stranger. “I’ll talk to her therapist tomorrow, see if there’s anything we should look for.”

 

***

 

When he drove up to the school to pick her up the next day, an administrator met him, asking him to come inside for a chat. Sansa was not in sight, but the lady told him that she was fine.

Tommen and Myrcella, who still spent weekdays with him, were shown into another room with a young woman who appeared to be a teacher.

The seriousness of the matter seemed to be escalating by the second, until the lady let him into a conference room. Brienne looked up at him, her brow creased in a frown, and for a moment he was confused by her presence.

Ygritte was also present, with a very hard expression. The school director sat between the women, and as the lady who had led him in closed the door, he noticed the police officer standing by it.

“Mr. Lannister, please take a seat.”

Sansa was still nowhere in sight.

“Is she okay?” Something had to have happened for this sort of meeting to be held, and he wondered why Brienne was _there_ , and not with their charge. But she wasn’t looking at him anymore.

“Please sit down.”

He did as he was told, if only to speed up the answers.

“Mr. Lannister, you are a smart man, and so I will go straight to the point,” the director began, leaning forward with hands clasped.

Barristan Selmy was a large, bald man with a reputation for discipline and rigidity, but they had gotten along well enough until now. He looked angry, and Jaime understood why a second before he spoke again.

“Have you had any improper contact with miss Sansa Stark?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN
> 
> Obviously, there will be a warning effective for the next chapter for a relatively short part where inappropriate conduct is described (whether it has happened or not is irrelevant for the trigger warning). I will be reiterating it at the beginning of the next chapter as well.
> 
> Btw, I have mentioned this in other comments, but I'm likely to make a series of 1-chapter episodes of things that didn't fit the pace. If there are things you would like to have me explore further in this fic, do say so, I'm open to suggestions :)
> 
> Next update on Sunday, although I'm part of the organization of a roller derby tournament for the whole weekend, so I'll try to set everything up and not forget to post ._.
> 
> Also... we're halfway through, folks :D


	17. The Accusations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Description of inappropriate behaviour between an adult and a teenager. Nothing sexual or graphic, but still potentially triggering.

Jaime looked shocked, watching every person present in turn as if he expected them to reveal a prank.

When nobody moved, he seemed uncertain, as if he tried to recall something.

Brienne had been told not to interfere, so she kept quiet, even if she desperately wanted to try and soothe his increasing agitation.

She had been called by the director less than an hour earlier, and told it was of the utmost importance for her to attend this meeting, without being told why. Scrambling to get replaced for the remainder of her work day, she’d rushed to the school.

They had questioned her for nearly half an hour, during which she had told them how she had no knowledge of any odd behaviour on Jaime’s part, with Sansa or any of the children. When they had started to enquire about their marriage, Brienne had gotten angry. It was fine, thank you, and she didn’t appreciate the implication that he might be seeking elsewhere what they imagined he might have felt lacking between them.

At the same time, her stomach had sank at the realization that she knew very little of him back when he had approached her with his offer to help, and that the truth of things reflected badly on the situation.

She couldn’t imagine him doing anything like that. Not in that way, in any case: if there had been anything improper, it would have been accidental, and not meant as this was presented.

Ygritte had reminded her icily that she wouldn’t be the first wife to have been fooled.

Now, as he stared at everyone in disbelief, accused, she was forced to remind herself how excellent she had witnessed him to be at lying.

And that her duty, first and foremost, was to Sansa and Arya.

It took a long moment for Jaime to find a response, as he gaped at the director.

“That’s insane,” he finally declared, realizing a moment too late how bad a choice of word that was, considering his twin had just been sent to a mental institution. “Is she saying that I did?”

“Answer the question, Mr. Lannister.”

“Of course I haven’t! This is - Brienne,” he implored, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She knew he was staring at her in disbelief even if she couldn’t see him.

“Sir, I think you can appreciate that we need to take these kind of allegations very seriously,” the director said. She heard Jaime scoff, then straighten in his chair with a deep breath.

“Of course you do,” he said, his voice steadier. “And I will cooperate as much as I can. But I did not touch her in any way that could be construed as improper. She is a child, and I have treated her as such.”

A short staring contest ensued between him and the director, until Ygritte spoke up.

“I think you can understand that we cannot leave the children with you - “

“Has Brienne been accused of anything?” he interjected. Everyone stared him, and for a terrifying moment, it felt like he was accusing her of complicity.

“Has she been accused of anything?” he asked again, forcefully.

“No, she has not,” Ygritte answered, suspicious.

“Then let the children stay with her, at home. I’ll go,” he announced, “and I won’t seek any contact with any of them until this is resolved. All of those kids have been through more than enough in just the past two years. Unless you intend to remove them permanently right now,” he said, and Brienne had the same knife of anxiety stabbing at her gut at the thought, “they don’t need to be further displaced for now.”

Ygritte seemed to consider his offer, and ended up nodding. “That’s fair.”

Everyone in the room visibly relaxed, though director Selmy didn’t seem any less angry. He had never quite warmed up to Jaime, despite being cordial, and probably felt like this was proving his instincts right.

“Thank you. May I have a moment with my wife?”

She stiffened, which the social worker didn’t miss. Brienne shook her head, signalling that it was fine, and everyone else rose to leave the room, shutting the door behind them.

“I need to know,” he started, pleading. She still couldn’t meet his gaze.

“I didn’t accuse you,” she preempted, but that wasn’t his question.

“Do you believe me?”

She looked at him. He didn’t look desperate, though he understood the gravity of the situation. Unless he was that calculating, it wasn’t the behaviour of a guilty man.

Then again, he had orchestrated a marriage on the off-chance that his sister’s children would need to be fostered, but it made no sense for him to risk that by molesting a child.

Elbows on the table, she rubbed her face in frustration. Jaime seemed to take that as a negative, and his voice was full of hurt when he spoke again.

“I understand.”

“I believe you,” she decided, going with her instinct. Relief was visible in his traits, though he frowned when she continued. “But I also believe her.”

“What exactly has she said?”

“I’m not even certain she has explicitly accused anyone of anything. They wouldn’t let me see her. Apparently she spoke to the school counselor, and the lady had reason enough to notify the principal. They spoke to Ygritte, not so much to me.”

He shook his head in frustration. “And how do you believe her and me?”

She took a moment to choose her words. “I think something happened - “

“Brienne - “

“ - but not with you,” she finished, cutting him off.

They stared at one another, until understanding dawned in his eyes. “You mean - “

“Yeah.”

“Why would she be accusing me?”

“Again, I’m not even sure she accused you of something,” she sighed. “She might have made allusions, that were then interpreted. I don’t know. We’ll sort out the truth, but you might need to be patient.”

Jaime nodded absent-mindedly, then, “You’ll need to hire someone. For Ella and Tommy.”

“I’ll stay home.”

He looked unsure, and she was about to protest when he spoke again. “You can, but... I wouldn’t want you to lose your position over this.”

Her job was the least of her worries at the moment. “I’ll live.” She didn’t have to worry about money, after all. “Where will you go?”

“I still have my apartment,” he explained. “It’s been unoccupied since we moved, but it won’t be much of an issue to get it back up and running.”

Small consolation. “You should go home to get your things before we do.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. He rose, shaking his head. Brienne felt the same disbelief at the whole situation.

“I’ll talk to the therapist,” she promised. “I can’t imagine that she wouldn’t have seen any of that coming.”

They headed to the door, but he stopped her before she opened it.

“Brienne. I swear to you - “

“Jaime, I know.”

“No, listen.” He pulled at her arm so that she faced him, and locked eyes with him. “I swear to you, I did not do this.”

This time, it seemed less about proving his innocence than about re-establishing their trust. She wanted to give him that, but she knew that she would have to remain open to the truth, however unpleasant it might turn out to be.

She nodded with more certainty than she felt, and they exited the room.

***

Jaime was given twenty minutes under police supervision to gather necessities and leave the house, which was then searched for any potential evidence.

The woman who had taken care of Myrcella and Tommen when they had arrived at the school had been a social worker, and she had tried to ask her questions as gently as possible. They were still confused and upset when Brienne came in to get them, and it took her a good fifteen minutes just to calm them down with a simplified version of the situation.

Arya had been picked up from school by a female police officer, and though suspicious, she had enjoyed giving her friends the spectacle of her being driven away in a police car.

Upon being questioned by Ygritte, however, she had frowned, summarily answered that she had no idea what they were talking about, and refused to answer anything else.

Which made everyone think that she knew more than she let on.

Sansa opted to spend the night at her friend Jeyne’s, and while Brienne would have liked to get some time alone with the teenager, she understood her need for space. Her siblings would spend the following evening with Margaery, and so Brienne and Sansa could go out for dinner and talk.

In the short time she was able to see her before going home with the other kids, Brienne did her best to impress on Sansa that she was on her side, and that she believed her.

She knew it would be crucial to get the teenager to confide in her, and she wanted more than anything to make sure she didn’t feel isolated or rejected.

Myrcella, Tommen and Arya all snuggled in Brienne’s bed that night, which had the side effect of preventing her from sobbing herself to sleep. She felt like she had failed Sansa, and as a parent, and feared all the other things she might have missed with any of the other kids.

The reminder that she had to keep it together for them would get her through the following few days. She would uphold the routine they had established as best as she could, putting on a happier face than she felt, though that would fool none of them.

When she met with Sansa alone, the teenager didn’t speak much at first.

“Will you talk to me?” Brienne asked, ten minutes after receiving their food, and some twenty after exhausting every other topic of conversation.

“You’re married to the guy,” Sansa had let out flatly, picking at her plate.

“And you think that precludes me from listening honestly? Or from believing you?”

She just shrugged, and Brienne had to remind herself that the girl was only thirteen. There was so much at stake, but that pressure couldn’t lay on her shoulders. Not like that.

“I need you to know, and understand, that my first duty is to keep you safe - “

“Clearly you’ve done a great job.”

Brienne couldn’t contain the hurt that showed on her face, and Sansa had the grace to look ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “That wasn’t fair.”

“It’s fine.” It really wasn’t. “You’ve been through a lot in the past two years. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to spare you that, at least.”

The teenager’s expression didn’t change, and Brienne felt somewhat guilty for trying to manipulate her emotions that way.

“I know this is difficult,” she continued, “but when you’re ready, I hope you can trust me enough to tell me what happened.”

Sansa scoffed quietly, and her anger rose visibly to her cheeks. “Sure. Would you like me to tell you how he kept touching my cheeks, and telling me how beautiful I am every time we were alone? Or even right behind - right behind your back? How he kept insisting for a kiss on the lips at bedtime, how he would stroke the sheets over my stomach, while he stank of wine? How he put his hands on the back of my neck - “

Tears were streaming down her face as she broke down, and Brienne left her seat to go to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Sansa struggled weakly, out of the remaining anger that had animated her, but quickly surrendered.

The tone of her voice had risen as she spoke, getting them awkward looks from the other diners, but Brienne wouldn’t have stopped her. She knew for certain now that her instinct had been correct: Jaime wasn’t the one Sansa was talking about. He rarely ever drank wine, neither of them did, and not at home. He drank at social events, which were now incredibly rare, and he generally complained of a headache the following day.

It wasn’t impossible, but it was definitely not likely.

However, her descriptions seemed vivid and upsetting enough to erase any doubt she might have had that those things had indeed happened to her. And as she held her, signaling to their waiter for their bill, she cried for another ruined childhood.

***

They were quiet all the way home, and when she cut the engine, the garage door closing behind them, she placed a hand on Sansa’s arm.

“Sansa, I want you to know that I believe you,” she said, as the girl looked away, trying to hide the same shameful expression she’d seen earlier. “Please look at me.” It took a moment, and there were fresh tears on her cheeks when she did. “I truly believe that all of those things have happened to you,” Brienne continued, choosing her words carefully, “and I will support you unconditionally through this.”

The girl averted her eyes, but nodded.

That night was difficult again, without the children to require she stay strong, nor the presence of Jaime to weather the pain together. There was no doubt in her mind that he would have held her as she had held him when he’d been faced with his twin’s fate. But he wasn’t there.

She resisted the urge to call him, to let him know that she knew he was innocent, but they had agreed not to be in contact until the investigation had been completed and his name cleared.

The only way for that to happen, now, would be for Sansa to admit that Jaime wasn’t the one who had hurt her. She couldn’t understand why she would accuse him, of all people. She had to be angry at him for some reason, but Brienne couldn’t imagine why.

Perhaps she lacked imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this posted properly! I’m at a roller derby tournament and my home internet wasn’t working, and I don’t have time to fix it, so I’m posting this from my iPad.


	18. The Reveal

  
Jaime had hesitated to properly move back into his apartment. He couldn’t yet tell how long his exile would be, nor if it would end in going back to his family, or being arrested.

It felt odd to be back within those walls. Barely six months of a new home, but filled with _so much_ , this place felt like another lifetime. He had owned the apartment for over a decade, but even going away to Casterly Rock for two years had not made him feel so estranged from it.

His first few days had been spent ruminating on the situation, and the possible consequences. If they lost custody of the children, what would become of them? Would Sansa and Arya be separated into different foster families? Would Tommen and Myrcella end up with Stannis or Tywin?

He supposed that if that happened, he and Brienne would simply divorce and that would be it. Would she keep the house? It was such a huge house to live in, alone. Perhaps she would want to foster other children on her own. At least this time she would have the means to support them. He wondered if the accusations against him would tarnish her in any way. She didn’t deserve that.

Police officers questioned him again, and he once again told them that he had no recollection of any behaviour that could be construed as inappropriate. Had he ever kissed her on the lips? Made odd comments about her appearance? Her body?

Of course he hadn’t. The officers’ disdain for him was clear, and he knew that his twin’s reputation wouldn’t help.

When they had left, Jaime finally turned his moping into productivity. He had spent hours working on the projects that had taken a backseat when he’d started homeschooling Tommen and Myrcella, practically clearing his schedule for the whole summer. Perhaps he’d regret it, if things didn’t work out. Although he could always return to Kingsguard full time.

He shaved his beard. The facial hair had made him seem less arrogant to most people, he knew, but he was sick of looking at the same miserable face. At least now there would be some novelty. His hair was still too long, he knew, and for a moment he considered just buzzing it off too. But then he would look like an inmate.

Physical training helped him put his mind on pause, mostly, and he took to swimming in his building’s private pool for hours every day. The house they had bought had one in the yard, and they had yet to use it, having moved in December. He hoped all of the kids would get to enjoy it when summer came.

He had just returned from such a session, a week after he was exiled, when the doorbell chimed as he dressed. The doorman notified him that Brienne was requesting to see him, and she was promptly sent up.

He was still cleaning up the flat quickly when she knocked, and a worried frown momentarily made way for a shocked face when he opened the door. He shook his head, assuming that the reason of her visit was of higher importance than the state of his facial hair.

“Is everything okay?”

Her frown returned. “Yes, everyone’s fine. Can we sit?”

Leading her into the living room, Jaime offered her something to drink or eat, wondering where the kids were. Her mood made him fear the worst, but he patiently waited for her to speak as they sat down.

“Brienne?”

She looked at him as though she had just returned to her surroundings from a much darker place. Shaking her head as if to chase the thoughts away, she briefly looked at her clasped hands, before raising her eyes to him.

“First... you have been cleared.”

He hung his head down with a sigh of relief. He knew that far too many crimes were left unpunished, but there were a lot of innocents in prison, too. He had feared becoming one of them.

“What happened?”

Staring at her hands again, she took a moment to answer. “What we thought had,” she replied, meeting his eyes.

A blind anger rose in his chest, and he got up to try and pace it out. “Baelish?” he asked, trying not to take it out on her.

She nodded gravely. “He’s been charged,” she added.

Jaime stopped in front of her, jaw taut. “He’s lucky. I would - ” He didn’t trust himself to finish that thought.

Brienne seemed oddly upset, more than she had been the last time they’d seen each other, as he was being accused of sexual misconduct on one of their charges.

Forcing himself to calm down, he sat back down and took a deep breath. “How’s Sansa?”

“Relieved.” She paused. “Ashamed. It’s going to be a long way.”

It would probably have to start with the obvious. “Why me?”

On her face appeared an expression he had rarely ever seen: she looked guilty.

“Remember that rumour, two months ago?”

There had been many, but he immediately knew which she meant. Two tabloids of high disrepute had published a blurb online about potential involvement of Lannister Holdings in the fire that had killed Eddard, Catelyn and Rob Stark.

It had been up for a grand total of two days, and no other publication had picked up on it, as there was no evidence. Libel against his family or their interests was a costly thing to attempt.

But Brienne and Jaime had been aware of it. And decided not to say anything to the Stark girls.

“Sansa thought it was true? That I had something to do with her family’s death?”

“She told her sister, the night she came back home after the accusation. Arya acted up after that, out of anger, and when I finally confronted her, she told me about the rumour. I asked her how she heard of it, and then it made sense. They were both skeptical when I told them it wasn’t true, less so when I explained that the rumour had been traced back to an anonymous call from the Vale.”

That had definitely not been something he could have foreseen. He rubbed his eyes, wondering how it could have gone so wrong from such a small thing.

“I understand if you want out.”

He was startled both by her words, and the miserable tone in which she’d spoken them. “What?”

“If you want to stop this. I’m pretty sure social services will be fine with you keeping Tommy and Ella,” she continued after a moment, as he stared at her, speechless.

“Why would I do that?” The idea was ridiculous. They had barely started! “We’re not even six months in - “

“Exactly. And you almost lost everything, because - because I made a mistake. A _stupid_ mistake.”

She was clearly angry at herself, but he couldn’t fathom how this was her fault. “What mistake?”

“When we discussed what to do about the rumour, I was the one who convinced you not to tell the girls.” She met his eyes, and he saw hers overflowing with guilt. “This is what started all of this. And I couldn’t even - Sansa never trusted me enough to tell me about it. And - about - “

Jaime blinked at her for a moment, overwhelmed by just how little sense she was making. He walked to her, kneeling in front of her armchair.

“Brienne. You got her out of there. Both of them, away from him. If it wasn’t for you, they would still be there. Or worse.” She squeezed her eyes shut, head down, and he saw a few tears gliding down her cheeks. Wiping one off gently with his thumb, he continued. “You made a call. Things happened and it unexpectedly got blown up into spectacularly unforeseeable results.”

More tears flowed, and he mentally cursed himself for getting the exact opposite of what he was trying to do.

“The point is, Brienne, everyone is going to be okay. You couldn’t have predicted this would happen. It wasn’t even necessarily a bad decision, it just had unfortunate consequences. But we’re all okay.”

She brushed off the rest of her tears after a moment, taking a few deep breaths to steady herself. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, quietly.

He smiled. Her annoyingly pretty eyes were still wet, but she seemed to be willing to accept his assessment. “It’s okay,” he replied, squeezing her hands. “You can do the dishes for like, two whole months, or something.”

The grin on her face was worth it. She playfully pushed him backwards, and he laughed. “Fine, three months then!”

When the lightened mood settled back into something more serious, she opened her mouth to presumably reiterate her apology.

“Stop, I heard you. This is now resolved,” he cut her off. “Let’s just go home, okay?”

She nodded, and looked around while he gathered his things. He was almost done when he caught her studying him.

“Were you... about to give up?” she asked.

He stared at her, confused.

“You shaved the beard,” she said, motioning at his jaw. That wasn’t helping with the confusion.

“Why would that mean I was giving up?”

She shrugged with a badly contained grin. “You said you wanted to look paternal.”

He’d take her childish glee at mocking him over her tears, any day.

“Shut up.”

 

***

 

Tommen and Myrcella rushed to greet Jaime as he came in, forcing him to hold both of them in his arms as he tugged his shoes off with his feet. He playfully dumped them over on the sectional sofa as he made his way to the kitchen, laughing as they tried to pursue him.

Dropping his bag in the bedroom, he nearly avoided being rammed into by his niblings, sending them onto the bed giggling madly. “Alright, kids, I’ll play again with you in a bit, alright?”

The next conversation would be an unpleasant one.

Brienne had fetched Sansa from her room, and the teenager was now staring at her feet in the kitchen, looking miserable. The other kids were sent upstairs, and Jaime was left alone with the girl.

“Please sit down,” he asked gently, showing her the high stools by the kitchen island. He pulled a chair from the dining table, bringing it in front of her so he would be looking up.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, and he could tell that she was on the verge of tears.

“I know, Sansa,” he sighed, wondering how to go about it. After a moment, he continued. “First... I’m sorry this happened to you. I really am. If we had known, we would have gotten you both out of there much earlier,” he explained, echoing Brienne’s regrets. The girl nodded silently. “But I need to make sure you understand how much damage you could have caused.”

There was a sob, and he stood to get tissues, handing her the box. “You could all have been taken away, because you believed a rumour.”

“I’m sorry,” she managed to articulate, and he knew she understood his point.

“I also need you to promise that if anything like this ever happens again, that someone touches you in a way that makes you feel uncomfortable, you will tell Brienne.”

Sansa looked up at that, and he calmly held her gaze.

“We got you, Arya, Tommy and Ella here with us so we could protect you, and give you a home, and hopefully a happy life. That is our priority. And it is mine,” he emphasized. “I’m hurt by what you did,” he added, and she averted her eyes, “but I’m far more relieved to know that you are safe now, and that you’ll be able to get better from now on.”

She nodded quietly, still blotting her eyes with the tissue he’d given her.

“I know we’ll probably never be as close as you and Brienne are, but I care about you, Sansa. And I hope you never have to doubt that again.”

He let her calm down until her breath almost stopped hitching from crying.

“Okay?”

She met his eyes, giving a small nod. “Okay.”

He smiled, standing to put the chair back. When he turned back to her, she was still staring at her feet.

“Do you want a hug?” he asked tentatively. She looked up at him hesitantly. “If you want to say no, say no.”

“Will you be mad if I get one from Brienne instead?” she said after a moment.

“Of course not,” he grinned. “Her hugs are pretty awesome.”

She chuckled, and slowly made her way upstairs, where her foster mom had been entertaining Tommen and Myrcella.

When Brienne made her way back downstairs, she found him in the bedroom, sorting out the contents of his bag. She knocked softly on the doorframe, though he had heard the weight of her steps in the staircase.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, throwing dirty socks into his laundry basket. “I think so.”

She watched him for a moment, before asking, “Do you need a hug, too?”

He knew she was teasing him, but there was no way he was letting her get out of that. “Yeah, actually.”

The surprise on her face as he stepped up to her was entirely worth it. Still, she returned the embrace, and the thought of home flicked across his mind as he took in her warmth. This wasn’t just to soothe the pain of his own journey, he knew, and he regretted not hugging her back at his apartment.

He did so now, holding her tightly as he leaned into her. Her breath heated his shoulder through his shirt, and he sighed. “We’re gonna be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go! All good :D It’s all candy from here :D
> 
>  _ **Or IS IT**_  
>     
> So, as mentioned previously, all remaining 14 chapters are already written and betaed. Some of you have found the 2-chapter-a-week posting schedule slightly difficult to deal with ;D HERE IS YOUR CHANCE. You can vote on the posting schedule [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/59NKZ7D). It’s open to all and anonymous!
> 
> Next chapter on Sunday!


	19. Life And Other Things

They barely had time to settle back into their routine before the summer holidays started, putting most of them onto a more paced schedule.

Arya still had her football practices, though usually later in the day than classes would have started. If Brienne drove her at the same time she went to work, it would leave Arya on her own in the city for hours, so Jaime took everyone downtown three times a week. During football practice, the rest of them often took the opportunity to stop at the library, enjoy one of King’s Landing many playgrounds, or do some window shopping.

Their pool served well, not only for refreshment, but also for opportunities to socialize. Friends were frequently invited over, making the kids pretty popular with their peers. On most days, Jaime now had to supervise three to five extra children for a few hours.

It was a very small price to pay to see all of their own look so happy.

Brienne spent most of their weekends watching them splash about in the water, safely sheltered under the patio’s umbrellas. Her pale skin made it far too easy for her to burn in the sun, which in turn made it so much easier to politely refuse to join them.

That didn’t seem to sit very well with Jaime. Half of the summer had already gone by when he walked up to her lounge chair, his red t-shirt and black swimming trunks plastered against his skin from the water. She did her best to avoid staring, though she snuck a glance every time he turned around to keep an eye on the kids still in the pool.

“You grew up on an island. I refuse to believe you don’t like swimming,” he dripped in front of her, shifting his soaked hair out of his bronzed face. The beard was slowly making a comeback, the sun-bleached blond still slowly making way for more grey. He looked like a damned demigod.

“I never said I didn’t like it,” she argued weakly, pretending to focus on her reading. He flicked water at her, making her jump.

“Jaime, this is a library book!”

“Put on your suit,” he coaxed, but she stuck her tongue at him. He squinted at her. “...is it because you don’t want us to see you in it?”

Her blush betrayed her once again, and she did her best to ignore him, which didn’t work very well. He studied her for a moment more, before sitting next to her legs, the cool water of his swimsuit against her skin making her shiver.

“Brienne, the kids don’t care. And me...” He looked a bit apprehensive, though he had an amused smirk. “Well, I’ve seen you in your underwear, so...”

“What?!” That was news to her, and her blush seemed to propagate all over her body. “When?!”

He bit his lip, trying to contain laughter, and glanced back once again at the pool. She probably imagined it, but she thought his eyes followed from the hem of her shorts along her legs.

Hitting his arm with the book, she asked again. “ _ When? _ ”

“Ow, Brienne, that is a library book,” he chided, and when she pretended to hit him again, he jumped back, laughing. “I don’t know, when! You were changing, you had your shirt over your face so you didn’t see me. I just walked back out.”

Front view, then. Was that a day she wore a light bra, or none at all? She wasn’t too keen on finding out.

She probably looked scandalized, and he tried to appease her prudeness.

“I wasn’t peeping! We share a bedroom  _ and _ a bathroom. That was bound to happen, and it’ll probably happen again, to be honest.” Her skin was probably nearing the shade of his shirt. “You’ve seen  _ me _ in my underwear!”

Oh, she  _ had _ . It was like he wasn’t even trying to get some privacy, parading his stupidly toned butt every other day... not  _ that _ often, but still.

“That’s not the point,” she protested, still flushed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“ _ The point is _ , please come enjoy the summer with us. There is no one here who gives a damn if you don’t look like a walking magazine cover.”

They stared at one another for a moment, until he looked back at the kids.

“Don’t make me pull you all the way there while you’re still clothed,” he warned, turning back to her with a mischievous grin.

“You can try.” They had never been in the position to test each other’s strength, though she was fairly confident in her own. Men tended to underestimate her, and Jaime would probably be no different.

“I’m strong enough,” he promised.

“I’ll get sunburnt in three minutes.” Her freckled skin hadn’t been exposed to prolonged southern summer sunlight in several years, and she honestly didn’t think it would withstand the magnification of a swimming pool.

“There’s waterproof sunscreen under the sink in the bathroom by the kitchen,” Jaime announced smugly. “Best possible brand, best possible protection.”

Crap. “I’ll have to let it dry,” she protested as he grabbed her wrist, pulling her off the chair.

“You better get on it then,” he said as he pushed her toward the patio doors. “If you don’t come back out in the next half hour, I  _ will _ drag you here, regardless of your state of dress.”

“You don’t want to see that,” she warned. He had a shit-eating grin, leaning in the frame as she dragged her feet backwards to the bedroom. “Don’t drip water everywhere,” she warned.

“Don’t make me. And,” he added, looking her up and down briefly, “don’t try to tell me what I want or don’t want to see.”

She didn’t have time to protest before he slid the door shut. Grumbling the whole time she changed - in their bathroom, with the door closed and locked - and through applying sunscreen, she wrapped a towel around her waist before coming back out.

Sitting closer to the pool, the kids cheered to finally see her about to join in, and she made a face at Jaime when he waved her in impatiently. “I’m still drying,” she teased. He kept a close eye on her for nearly fifteen minutes, before hoisting himself out.

Everything still stuck to his skin and she got flustered as he walked his arrogant walk towards her. She leaned back when he got close, trying to dodge the water that dripped off him.

“Come on. You’re dry now. Get in.”

She cringed, knowing there was no way of getting out of it, but still desperate to try anyway.

“Do I have to get the kids involved in this? Okay. Guys, I think I might need help here,” he grinned devilishly.

“You said you were strong enough! You’re cheating!” she squeaked as he secured an arm around her waist, just long enough to prevent her from scurrying away from the children who were now swarming her.

“Oh, I am,” he said into her ear as the kids pushed and pulled at her, “but why should I waste my energy when I have minions to do it for me?”

She felt his hand grab her towel, and a moment later she was underwater. Surfacing, she found all of them standing and cheering. She would have swum closer to splash at them all, but she saw Arya’s move to get behind Jaime, and made her way towards the other side instead.

He barely had time to shoot her a suspicious look before being pushed into the water after her. When he came back up, flipping his hair out of his eyes, he was facing her, and she mouthed  _ karma, bitch _ with a satisfied grin.

Annoyingly, he seemed to feel just as victorious.

The rest of the summer went on similarly. Brienne had managed to organize her shifts to have an afternoon off every week, allowing for family activities at times when attractions might not be swamped by the weekend crowds. The zoo was a definite favourite, the Blackwater Amusement Park a surprising failure, and the children had begged to plan another day hiking in Kingswood National Park.

When the new school year peeked on the horizon, they had decided to give Arya’s suggestion a try, and enrolled both Tommen and Myrcella at Visenya Elementary with her. She had introduced her foster siblings to her friends over the summer, instructing them to keep an eye out for any bullies. She was the shortest of her little gang, but it was clear that she was the leader.

The adaptation was not without a hitch - including Myrcella once returning home with a split lip, Tommen in awe that she had stood up to a kid who’d pushed him around - but overall, things went better than they had expected.

They had requested to foster Sansa and Arya with the intention to adopt from the start, but following the incident the previous spring, any further procedure had been put on ice. 

“Some sort of probation, if you will,” Ygritte had explained. “Just to make sure that this is the right fit for everyone.”

Jaime had wanted to argue, but he’d settled down at Brienne’s insistence. “We understand.”

To be entirely honest, and a little bit selfish, she was glad of that. They still hadn’t figured out how to go about the separation, and it became clearer every day that it would be a lot more difficult for the kids than they had expected.

Additionally, while the Stark girls’ familial situation was pretty straightforward, Tommen and Myrcella’s was far more complex. Cersei was still undergoing treatment at the Targaryen Institute, and was scheduled to be released at the beginning of the following spring, provided her psychiatric assessment allowed for it.

She was better now, but her arrival in the institution had been agitated, and settling fairly difficult. Jaime had visited her every month, though he had refused to even consider bringing the kids along until she became more balanced. He relayed messages and drawings gladly.

He told Brienne very little of those visits, and she respected that. She could see it was still very painful for him, though he seemed to get on fairly well with their lives. There had been a few times when he had sought an embrace upon returning from such a trip, and she had wordlessly complied every time. 

That’s what partners did.

Cersei had been in treatment for six months before he allowed her children to visit. They were very quiet when they returned, and when she asked Jaime, he shrugged that their mother had been a bit high-strung, possibly due to medication, and had ended up scaring them a bit.

He did not bring them on his next visit.

Winter solstice celebrations came around again, this time with more than enough time to properly shop for gifts. Tommen received an adjustable easel, and a behind-the-scene tour of his favourite museum. Sansa squealed over the ticket concert she had requested, and again when Jaime announced that she, her friends and their chaperone would get to meet the band. Presented with a VIP season pass for King’s Landing football team, the Blackwater Dragons, Arya had joined her sister in her outburst. Myrcella had been begging for horse-riding lessons, and after enquiring around, they had been able to organize for her to attend some at a farm in the town they lived in.

While the Stark girls prepared for a TRaven video chat with their brothers and their uncle Benjen, Jaime took his niblings back to the Targaryen institute. They weren’t much enthused by the idea, having only been back twice since their first time, but he had insisted that their mother would miss them very much if she couldn’t see them during the holidays.

He told Brienne about the visit that night, after the kids had all gone to bed.

It had gone well enough this time, though towards the end, Cersei had started talking about how they would all move back together, her and the kids, once she was let out. Tommen and Myrcella had looked up at  _ him _ , with  _ worry _ clearly painted on their face, and Cersei had seen it.

It was a bit normal: they had been mostly estranged from their mother for the better part of a year, and they had since forged deep relationships with their new family. They were kids, after all, and while their love for their mom was not at stake... they loved what their life was now. And it was still unclear when, or  _ if _ she would even be allowed to have the children back.

Jaime was reluctant to tell Brienne the next part, but she insisted.

“She asked the kids to wait outside, she wanted to speak to me alone,” he relented with a sigh. “Then she accused me of stealing the children from her, and... letting you do the same.”

“That’s - “

“Yeah, I know. And I told her as much, but she wouldn’t listen. She said I’d regret it. I told her we were trying to do what was best for the kids, and she shrieked that  _ she _ was best for the kids, not... well, then she insulted you. I’m not going to repeat that.”

Brienne sighed. “Maybe we should have taken the kids to see her more often.”

“I didn’t want to force them. That could have damaged their relationship even more. As it stands now,” he explained, “they’re just apprehensive because they’ve settled with us. It doesn’t mean that they don’t want to be with her ever again. It’ll just be a process. I’m just not sure she gets that.”

A quiet moment passed, as they both reflected on the challenges to come. One of those would probably be to have her visit the kids until they were released back into her custody.

“She really hates me, huh?”

He didn’t seem fazed. “She hated you before she ever laid eyes on you. And when she did, at Renly’s wedding, you refused to cower at her insults. You did nothing wrong.”

The rest of the holidays went on quietly, or as quietly as could be with a houseful of children. Brienne regularly sent them all out of the house to play in the snow while she and Jaime cleaned the neverending mess, then joined into the games outside.

The new year began as the previous had, though with better established routines and a generally more confident outlook on the future. School had been going well and continued to do so. The children were all healthy and happy.

 

***

 

It was another one of their busy Wednesday when Brienne oddly received a personal letter at work. There was no return address, and she didn’t recognize the handwriting, but it had been stamped in King’s Landing.

Opening it at lunch, she quickly regretted her decision. Hastily folding the paper back into its envelope, she cursed herself, even knowing that she could never have predicted its contents.

She spent the rest of her day trying to push the words out of her mind, in vain. When Jaime texted her that he had dropped Tommen at Arya’s practice, and would probably be home late, she wondered if he’d gotten a letter, too.

As always, Sansa was waiting for her at the library when she got out of work. Immediately the teenager sensed that something was wrong.

“What happened?” she asked when Brienne informed her that Jaime would be late.

“He didn’t say,” she answered. That wasn’t typical -  for him to not be home on a weeknight, and definitely not to keep quiet on why.

Though she suspected the letter she had received to be in cause, she obviously couldn’t tell Sansa about it.

The rest of the kids were a bit concerned, but mostly demanded for Jaime to come bid them goodnight when he returned. She promised that he would do so, if he came back early enough.

He didn’t. 

It was nearly midnight when he showed up, clearly upset. Despite her own concerns, she worried that he had driven in that state.

“There was no one on the road,” he said flatly. 

“You could have still ended up in a ditch by yourself,” she argued, but he waved her off, heading for the bedroom.

“We need to talk,” she ordered, following him. There was no way she was getting stuck on her own until morning with the contents of Cersei’s letter.

He turned around, facing her as he rubbed his face. Clearly he had had a rough night, and it was probably not about to improve.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have told you where I was going,” he started, sounding sincerely apologetic.

“That’s not - where  _ did  _ you go?”

Sitting down on the bed, he sighed, and in the dim light from the kitchen, she could suddenly see the weight of it on his face.

“Cersei killed herself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _DUN DUN DUN_
> 
>  
> 
> The next 2 chapters are going to be tough, but it'll be worth it, I promise.
> 
> Aaaand the results of the survey are in! 69 (lolz) of the people who answered want a 3 chapter / week schedule, 9 people are fine with the current schedule and 8 people would have liked to have all the chapters now. Too bad :D
> 
>  
> 
> **So the next chapter will be posted on Tuesday!**
> 
>  
> 
> Additionally, I've answered the comments you left me in the survey in [a Tumblr post](http://wauryd.tumblr.com/post/173623441638/planning-for-life-chapter-19-life-and-other)!


	20. The Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There is a description of a manner of suicide in this chapter, though not in an active voice.

Jaime had just dropped Arya at her practice at the recreation centre when the call came.

“Hey, Tyrion,” he answered on the car’s bluetooth system.

“Hi Uncle Tyrion!” Tommen piped up from the backseat.

“Hello, Tommy. Jaime, can you pick up the call on your phone?”

Concerned, he’d parked the car and did as told. His brother had been blunt, though Jaime could tell he was upset at well. There had been no love lost between the two siblings, but Cersei had hated him a lot more than the dwarf could ever return.

“How - no, don’t tell me,” Jaime finally managed to articulate after the shock. “Where are you?”

“Stay with your family. There’s nothing you can do now,” Tyrion had countered.

“I’m trying. Where are you?”

His brother had sighed, then replied, “At home.”

“Does - “

“Father knows. He asked his secretary to call us. She called me first because... well, I’m sorry to say, but she likes me best,” he bragged, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’ll live,” Jaime had replied dryly. “I’ll be over.” He’d hung up, then turned to Tommen, who had a concerned expression.

“Is Uncle Tyrion okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine, don’t worry, okay? Listen, I’m going to have to drop you off at Arya’s practice. You stay there until Brienne comes to get you after work, alright? You know that you don’t go with anyone else than her, right?”

The boy nodded gravely, and Jaime doubled back to the recreation centre, then drove to Rhaenys’s Hill to Tyrion’s apartment. He had been drinking already by the time Jaime got there.

“You drank before coming home?” Brienne’s tone was horrified when he recounted it.

“Of course not. The only thing I could think of was that I had to drive back. Maybe I should have drank, come to think of it. And taken a taxi,” he added when he saw how appalled she was.

“What happened?”

He needed a moment to collect his thoughts, and find the words. It was pretty straightforward, but speaking them aloud was another story.

“She was given a pencil to write, because she had requested to send letters out. And she had been doing well,” he explained. Brienne could tell where this was going, he saw her expression change. “She sharpened it. Waited until curfew. They found her when the nurses did their first round of the night, but... she had lost too much blood.”

“I’m sorry,” she finally said quietly, from across the room. 

He recalled that she had already seemed upset in her own right before he’d said anything. And now, she stood so far from him when he needed her most. “What’s wrong?”

He saw her frown, head down, then reach for the back pocket of her trousers. She unfolded an envelope and stepped towards him, holding it out. “I received this today,” she simply said.

The familiar handwriting sent a shiver of panic down his spine, that the contents only confirmed. He squeezed his eyes shut, and couldn’t refrain a chuckle - nearly a sob. “Wow.”

“Is it true?”

He knew that he had to tell her the truth. She might not even want to listen to any explanation he had, and he really couldn’t blame her. Cersei’s letter was accusing Brienne of trying to steal her children from her and Jaime, but proclaiming that they could never be hers. Because she had brought those children to life with him. Tommen and Myrcella were theirs, and regardless of Brienne’s machinations, she could never have that.

It could all have been dismissed as ravings, especially considering the day’s events. But Jaime didn’t want to lie to Brienne. He couldn’t. It was going to be the end of whatever they had, their partnership, but he couldn’t say anything else but the truth.

“Yes.”

Brienne exhaled loudly, turning away from him. He wondered if it would have been less painful to either of them if physical blows had been exchanged. He certainly felt he would have deserved them.

She kept quiet for a long moment, and he didn’t dare look at her. Her disappointment was more than he could bear for now.

“Are you going to tell them? About you?” Her voice was a bit strangled when she finally spoke. He hated that he was hurting her so much.

“Of course not. They don’t deserve that burden.” He paused, then forced himself to meet her gaze. “Neither do you.”

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, and he was almost relieved by the anger in her voice, though her eyes shone with tears in the faint light. He didn’t insist.

“It doesn’t really make a difference, but... we’re not related by blood.”

He could feel her glare without looking. “You’re  _ twins _ , Jaime.”

“I was adopted.” Another secret he had been carrying around. “Joanna Lannister gave birth to two babies, but the boy died within days. Tywin found an orphaned boy who looked close enough. A bit of Lannister money, and... yeah.”

Brienne was still frowning, but she didn’t reply.

“I didn’t find out until I was a teenager, shortly after... our mom died. I told Cersei. It started there.” Clearly she didn’t want to hear more. “Like I said... it doesn’t really change much.”

She shook her head silently. At least they could agree on that.

They stayed quiet in the heavy atmosphere for a moment more.

“Well, adopting them won’t be much of an issue anymore,” she finally said, and for a second he thought that not all hope was lost, though her voice was bitter. “I’m sure social services will find that you’re the logical choice, provided she hasn’t sent out more letters.”

Her eyes were hard, and he averted his own in shame after just a second. She went to her closet, gathering fresh clothes, and turned to leave the room.

“Stay,” he pleaded, knowing she’d be heading to sleep on the daybed in her office. “You can have the room.” She deserved that much.

“I’m fine,” she replied as she disappeared through the kitchen door. He heard that of her office close, and it echoed with a pang in his chest.

All night he had been looking forward to going home, to find her and hide in her warmth, even if she could never completely understand his pain. She would have been there, like he would have been if their roles had been reversed.

But everything had gone to hell.

He went in circles for a while, unable to focus and knowing that his dreams would not bear peace. Finally he changed, and stared at her office door from the kitchen doorway. He hadn’t apologized, he realized, but he knew that while she would probably not be sleeping for a while either, she wouldn’t want to hear it.

Shutting the bedroom doors, Jaime slipped into bed, his back to her empty place. He drifted off with the hollow certainty that he was quickly losing everything that mattered.

 

***

 

The alarm pulled him out of a seemingly dreamless sleep, for which he was grateful, though he felt anything but refreshed. There was no sound from Brienne’s office when he checked, so he went for a shower, careful to dress inside the bathroom. A morning run would have been helpful to help him clear his mind, he reflected bitterly, but he didn’t want to leave the house without saying anything.

She was in the kitchen when he came out, dressed for her own training, and they simply acknowledged one another with a silent nod. He hadn’t expected the silence to be so hard.

Breakfast was ready by the time the kids woke up. There was no possible way to break the news gently to Tommen and Myrcella, and he knew that they would probably not be very hungry afterwards. Bringing small plates of food to their room, he waved Arya and Sansa towards the stairs when they looked at him questioningly.

His children were both sobbing in his arms as he tried to hold his own tears when Brienne appeared in the door frame. From her expression, he knew that she had never intended for him to tell them alone. She cared for them just as much as he did.

She drove the other two to school after summarily explaining the situation, and making sure they were alright. Jaime stayed home with Tommen and Myrcella, putting on movie after movie to try and distract all three of them from reality.

He realized too late that they hadn’t arranged for the afternoon pickup, when Brienne returned home at a quarter to four with the girls. He started to profusely apologize, but she held a hand to silence him.

“Don’t worry about it.” Her expression had softened from the previous night, but they were ways away from forgiveness. If it ever came.

Both Arya and Sansa made extra efforts to cuddle and entertain their foster siblings until the end of the evening, at which point they kissed them goodnight in Jaime’s bed. After Brienne did the same, exiting the room and closing the doors, he patiently waited for the children to fall asleep.

He was drifting off when Myrcella spoke quietly. “Did you guys fight?”

“Something like that,” he replied softly. “It’s going to be okay.” There were high doubts that it would, but he still retained some foolish hope.

The following day was more of the same. Brienne left before Jaime had gotten up with his half of the kids, and texted him that she had arranged for the Stark girls to be picked up by Jeyne’s mom. Tyrion called to let him know that the funeral would happen that Sunday, which he relayed to her. 

Apparently, Tywin was of the opinion that he shouldn’t bring his...  _ additional _ family along, which was insulting, but fine with Jaime. Sansa and Arya’s last funeral had been their own family’s, and he had no intention of having them be reminded of that.

Sleep wouldn’t come that night, and after making sure the children were soundly asleep, he slipped out of the bed towards the kitchen.

Fresh snow had been falling for a few days, making everything eerily luminous and silent. They never could hear passing cars from their secluded house, but as everyone else slept, the house was almost unsettlingly quiet.

Filling a glass with water from the kitchen faucet, guided by the faint light of the oven hood, he stared into space, exhausted. Numbness had slowly started to replace the pain, leaving him empty. It was probably not a healthy way to cope, but at least it kept him functional.

He felt her presence before he saw her. Brienne watched him with worried eyes from the kitchen door, and he smiled sadly at her.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry if I woke you up,” he offered.

“You didn’t.”

Nodding, he quickly rinsed his glass before placing it in the drying rack. They hadn’t been alone since that quick salutation the day before, and he didn’t quite know what to say. If there was anything to, really.

He started to make his way back to the bedroom, turning the light off, even though he knew he wouldn’t sleep any more than he had before getting up. She moved slightly just as he reached her, and he instinctively turned to face her.

_ Gods, she looks miserable _ , he thought as they stared at one another in the dark. No one in the house had been particularly cheerful, evidently, but for a moment he wondered how she seemed to take it the hardest of them all.

Until she wrapped her arms around him.

Falling into the pull of her warmth, he realized how much he’d missed her. How much he needed her. And from the way she held onto him, it seemed to be mutual. Hands along her sides, he pulled her closer, breathing her through the fabric of her t-shirt, feeling her shaky breathing against his chest.

_ Home _ .  _ This is HOME _ .

He would have gladly stayed right there all night, her heartbeat against his own. But she pulled away after too short a time, though she kept her hands on his shoulders. He slid his arms around her waist, desperate to keep at least some of their embrace intact.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and he wanted to tell her that she had nothing to be sorry for. “About Cersei,” she added.

Nodding, he wondered if she felt guilty for not having offered more support until now. He didn’t want her to be. If anything, it had been his fault, and Cersei’s.

They had been teenagers when they’d started sleeping together, after he had revealed that he was not her brother by blood, and it had carried on well into their twenties. At twenty-two, encouraged by her father, she had started seeing Robert “Bobby” Baratheon, ten years her senior, and a rising star in the political scene.

There had been actual interest on her part at first, but the man had revealed himself to be far too much of a womanizer. Still, at their father’s insistence, she’d stayed, but continued her affair with Jaime.

Two years later, she had told her twin that she was pregnant with his child. He had convinced her to get an abortion, and in turn she had begged him not to end their relationship. So they’d gone on.

She had married the following year. Less than twelve months later, she was pregnant again, but didn’t reveal it - or the child’s father - until it was too late to terminate it. Jaime was furious, but there was little he could do without severe consequences. Bobby was expecting to become a father.

Cersei somehow convinced Jaime to continue their affair, but a third pregnancy, only a few months after Myrcella’s birth made her twin suspicious. She acted as though it was the natural continuity of their relationship, and revealed that she had been sabotaging the contraception they used.

Jaime had simply left. He had followed her to King’s Landing originally, but he then returned to Casterly Rock. He had stayed there for two years, making trips away every time she visited their childhood home. He hadn’t been alone with her since.

He remembered how she had come to his apartment, barely a day after he had informed their father that he and Brienne had agreed to marry, and that a prenup had been signed. Cersei had been screeching at Jaime’s door when he had refused to let her in. Forbidding him from marrying Brienne was never going to go the way she had hoped, and she’d sworn he’d regret it.

Despite all that had happened, he had yet to regret his decision in any way. Some choices along the way, perhaps, but not Brienne.

Now, in the darkness of the kitchen, he stared at her, at the stupidly beautiful eyes whose innocence he was terrified of having besmirched. And he could see that, for some unfathomable reason, she still somehow trusted him.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” he said softly, “but I’m grateful for all the support you’ve given me. And the kids.” 

She opened her mouth to speak, changed her mind, and chewed at her lower lip instead. Jaime smiled. That habit drove him crazy, constantly giving him the urge to tell her to stop. For a moment, he thought he was going to kiss her, but she averted her eyes.

“Thank you,” he added simply. It was best.

He was debating kissing her forehead instead, and leaving, when she finally spoke up.

“I’ll need more time.”

Afraid to put too much stock into her meaning, he nodded, swallowing hard. She slid her hands off his shoulders after a moment, and he finally let her go. She had a small smile, and returned to her office.

He’d have to convince her to take the bed the next day, he considered as he re-entered their bedroom. He could take the guest room upstairs.

Sleep finally swept him off, and he dreamt of blue seas rocking him to safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Already a bit better. More talking in the next chapter :3
> 
> Reminder that the timeline is not on an even pacing - I sometimes skips months ahead for storytelling purposes. [HERE](https://78.media.tumblr.com/ac5805e6dcd22dddf8cf93cf6d44c37e/tumblr_inline_p8dxg76PP11t88wim_500.jpg) (image) is a timeline of events up to this point, with ages of everyone directly involved.
> 
> As I've mentioned to a few people in the comments before, there will definitely have been things I will have skipped in order to make the story move forward. I **am** planning on writing short episodes with some of the things I did skip, but if there is anything specific you'd like to see, do feel free to let me know [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/ZTGMGHS). Again, open to all and anonymous :)
> 
> Next update on Friday!


	21. The Funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favourite chapters :3

The funeral was two days later. Understandably, no one was talking much, and Brienne did her best to add as much comfort to their routines as she could. It did little, she felt, but she still had to try.

She was helping Tommen and Myrcella  dress in their room when Jaime walked in. He was wearing all black, from his suit to his shirt and tie. He looked quite striking, she thought, with the longish blond hair, and the beard she knew he had trimmed. She briefly wondered if anyone would try to flirt with him at the funeral.

Embarrassed at that thought, she stood, smiling awkwardly as she made way for him to finish up with the kids. He returned the smile, gently stopping her with a hand on her arm when she headed for the door.

“Thank you.” Their eyes locked, and he looked like he wanted to tell her so much more than he could at that moment. There would be time. She nodded, smiled back at the children, and left.

She knew he would have a talk with them, prepare them for the proceedings, what to expect, and how to act. That crying was perfectly fine, Tommen, as much as he needed to, and that they didn’t have to go up to the coffin if they didn’t want to. That Jaime would be there with them the whole time.

Jaime hadn’t discussed it with her, but that was what Brienne would have told them, if it had been her place. They disagreed on many things, but when it came to the children, so far, they were of one mind.

When he and the children finally made their way to the living room, they found her, Arya, and Sansa all dressed in dark clothes. Jaime opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated long enough for her to cut in.

“I know. Tyrion told me.” Their father hadn’t wanted them to attend, and considering the type of people who would be present - haughty high class people - she wouldn’t even have argued. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t show support.

Tommen had seemed on the verge of tears already, and he collapsed in Sansa’s arms, sobbing, as Arya hugged Myrcella tightly. “You’re even wearing a skirt,” the latter whispered loudly, making everyone chuckle.

While it was best that the girls didn’t go along, Brienne would still have wished for the kids to be together at such a time. They might not share blood, but they had become family. And the Starks knew better than most of anyone at that funeral, perhaps, what burying their mother at such a young age felt like.

Once again, there was clearly more on Jaime’s mind than time allowed, so he simply hugged Brienne. She felt a trembling in his shoulders as she returned the embrace, and she did her best to smooth it out.

“Gods, what would I do without you?” 

_ Let’s not find out _ , she thought, but simply squeezed him tightly before letting go. “I put your messenger bag in the car, with pretty much everything you might need. Tissues, water, a few snacks, etcetera. Call if you need anything.”

Hugging both of the bereaved kids at once, she reminded them that they were loved, and that their family would be home when they returned.

The funeral was taking place in King’s Landing, though Cersei would not be buried next to her husband. There had been a question of bringing her back to Casterly Rock, but Jaime had objected: the children would stay with him in the Crownslands, and no one else in their family would visit her grave anyway.

Brienne knew that she would have to as well, at some point. She had never liked the woman, who in truth would probably hate to have her pay respects, but she still felt guilty. Cersei had ended up convinced that they meant to steal the children from her. Obviously, they had not; but the result was the same. She just wished she had had a chance to tell her as much, although she wasn’t sure it would have made a difference.

Jaime and the kids returned shortly after lunch time, which surprised her: the reception would have gone well into the evening, considering the scale of the event. Despite her crimes, Cersei had been first lady.

“You can go change, if you want,” Jaime told the kids once their coats were removed, and they hugged Brienne again before making their way upstairs. 

They looked a bit less miserable than earlier, and she looked questioningly at her husband.

“We didn’t stay for the reception,” he explained with a sigh. That couldn’t have gone over well with Tywin. “They needed to be able to say goodbye, but afterwards, it’s a circus of lies and platitudes. Kids shouldn’t have to go through that.”

That was not logic she was going to argue with. “Have you eaten at all?”

“Yeah, we stopped at Mopatis’s. I know, I know, junk food,” he preempted, knowing Brienne usually chided him for taking the kids there.

“Hey.” On a day like this, that was definitely not her first concern. Her expression said as much, and he had a small smile. “You should go change, too. I’ll get you something to drink.”

Jaime appeared intrigued at that, but he said nothing and headed for their bedroom. She quickly went upstairs to see the kids, finding Arya and Myrcella already engrossed by one of their games, and Tommen lying down with Sansa as she read him a book in her bed.

There were few words for the tenderness Brienne felt for all of them at that moment, and she smiled. They would be okay.

She informed them that she and Jaime would be in his office if any of them needed anything, and made her way back to the kitchen. When he emerged, wearing his usual jeans and an overused sweater, she handed him a mug.

He looked at it, bemused, raising an eyebrow at her. “Hot chocolate? Is there at least some booze in it?”

Rolling her eyes, she took her own mug, making her way towards the living room. “There’s one shot of rum.” She heard him chuckle as he followed, and he gave her an odd look when she stood by his office doors, showing him in.

Closing them as she went in after him, she placed her mug on the coffee table by the sofa, and busied herself with the fireplace in the corner. 

“Is it that time already?” He sounded a bit wary, still standing, staring. Looking tired.

“What time?”

“To tell you  _ everything _ ,” he replied, and his sarcastic emphasis made it clear he meant the whole mess with Cersei.

“Not necessarily.” She paused, focusing on the task at hand. “But I figured you might want to talk. In general.” For a moment, he seemed elsewhere. “You don’t have to.”

Nodding, he made his way to the sofa. He sipped distractedly from his mug until she finished lighting a bold fire, at which point she came to sit next to him. They stayed quiet almost comfortably for a while, the flames slowly taking hold of the logs in vivid colours.

“I don’t really know what to say,” Jaime finally started. He had been staring at his half-empty drink for a moment now. “Where to start.”

“You don’t have to,” she repeated, and they locked eyes. He looked exhausted.

“I kinda do.” He rubbed his brow with a sigh. “Today has been... It still feels unreal. I mean, it was already hard to wrap my head around her murdering Bobby, but...” He shook his head with a sad smile. “This is weird. It must be - for you - ”

“Jaime, I’m fine. I might not like it, but... she was such a big part of your life. Of you. It’s not like you can just erase it, nor should you want to. But you shouldn’t let it drown you, either. And,” she added after a pause, “as a partner, it’s part of my job to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

His smile was a bit more genuine, and he took a deep breath as he collected his thoughts.

Then he started talking. 

Growing up with Tywin and his wife Joanna, thinking he was their natural born son, and Cersei’s twin. Tyrion’s birth when they were six, and Joanna’s ill health for the six years after that, until it had consumed her. Their father being furious, blaming his dwarf son for it, shipping him off to a boarding school as soon as he could.

Within a year of that, learning that he was not biologically a Lannister. The alienating loss of identity that had followed the death of his mother, and a brother he loved.

How Cersei had been a salvation. And a curse, it turned out.

How she had aborted their first child, tricked him in order to have Myrcella and Tommen. How often she had threatened to reveal everything. The steps he had taken to make sure she wouldn’t get a hold on him again.

How he missed her, what they had had, even if he knew it had been wrong.

“I know it’s insane,” he said, playing with his now empty mug.

“It’s not. It’s unhealthy, but... I guess I can see why it happened.”

They stayed quiet for a moment, Jaime’s face burdened by regret. He had lost so much, in so many ways, Brienne reflected.

“What’s your favourite memory of her?” She didn’t want it to end like this, He looked at her curiously. “Apart from... that.”

He chuckled sadly. “Nah, that part has been tainted for a while. No matter how good it was, when you feel like you were used, it loses its... shine.” Then, after a moment, he answered her question. “When we were kids, before our mother died, we took Tyrion to the playground. She had already taken after Father’s displeasure at his existence, but when some bullies tried to push him around, she stood up to them. Kicked them in the shins,” he explained with a fond smile. “I had to finish the fight, of course, with her cheering me on. Father was furious when we came home. But it felt like we were a family, you know? Like we were going to have each other’s backs.”

Brienne nodded, even though that wasn’t a feeling she was familiar with. Her only brother had died when she was a child, and her stillborn sisters had never even made a sound. She wondered if she would have been as resentful if the last one had survived, instead of dying with their mother.

Everyone in their current household had lost their mother very young, Brienne realized with sorrow. Watching Jaime and herself, she couldn’t quite tell how well it would bode for any of their charges.

“I think that the kids have something like that, here,” he continued, oblivious to her melancholy. “I hope they can hang on to it, whatever happens.”

She considered that for a moment, aware that he was watching her.

“Well, none of us is going anywhere, so I guess we’ve got time for that to solidify.” She met his gaze, and his green eyes bored into her as if they tried to hold on to her words.

“About that - “

There was a knock on the frame of the office door, and they both turned to look. All four kids were staring at them with hopeful eyes through the glass panes. “We’re hungry,” they almost said in unison.

Checking the time on Jaime’s desk clock, they suddenly realized that it was nearly seven, which sent them both into parent-mode.

“I would have made them something, but I didn’t know,” Sansa explained as they made their way to the kitchen. Brienne patted the girl’s head affectionately.

“I wouldn’t have minded, but it’s not your job,” she reminded her gently. “You’re welcome to help, though.”

All of the remaining three excitedly offered their participation as well, and both adults were quite glad to see them all in such a good mood, considering the day. It would be uneven for weeks, months perhaps, but they would get through it.

The rest of the evening was spent watching an animated movie about the Children of the Forest. All the kids cuddled in some sort of heap in the elbow of the sectional sofa, as Brienne and Jaime held the far end. She could feel his warmth next to her, though there was a slight awkwardness: there was still much to be discussed.

Sansa had been observing them from the corner of her eye from the moment they had sat down, and at a lull in the movie, she actually paused it, turning to them.

“Why aren’t you cuddling?”

It was so out of the blue that they both had to laugh after the initial surprise passed. By then, all of the kids’ attention was very focused, and the question was repeated a few times.

“Wow, you’re worse than in-laws,” Brienne exclaimed. “Are you going to ask when we’re having a baby next?”

She realized her mistake far too late, and immediately she was assaulted by the three youngest jumping at her.

“Are you having a baby??”

“No, NO, I’m  _ not _ having a baby!” Turning to Jaime for help, he simply shrugged. The traitor was abandoning her to the hordes!

“But  _ why not _ ?”

“Yeah! Why aren’t you having a baby?”

That was a subject a lot more complicated than the day called for, and Brienne shot Sansa a reproachful look. The teenager looked helpless, but it wasn’t really her fault. Not entirely, anyway.

“Well,” she thought quickly, “because I don’t like children.”

For a second, it seemed to calm them down, Myrcella nodding thoughtfully, until understanding dawned on her face. “Hey!  _ We’re _ children!”

Brienne gave her a cocky, knowing look that would have been right at home on Jaime’s face, and she laughed as they all attacked her in protest. A mock-fight ensued, in which she dumped Tommen on Jaime as retaliation, and Myrcella on the other sofa while Arya desperately held onto her back, trying to not fall from laughing so much.

When calm finally returned, Brienne ushered everyone back to their place so they could finish the movie. The kids once again clamoured for the adults to cuddle too, and she was about to put a parent-end to the discussion when a pillow landed on her lap, followed by Jaime’s head.

“Is that better? I’m fine with this,” he announced, though he couldn’t have been comfortable. There was definitely not enough space for him to lie down completely, so he propped his legs over the armrest, butt squarely against the side of it, forcing him to stay on his back. As she laid an arm across his chest, she predicted that he would have a very sore neck from watching sideways before the movie was done. He still refused to move.

“Ugh, fine. Movie, now,” she ordered the giggling children, and watching resumed, their battle quickly forgotten.

 

***

 

Jaime’s neck ended up being just fine after all, as he barely glanced at the television the rest of their sitting. She knew he’d watched her - from possibly the least flattering angle possible, if there was one - and was powerless to stop the blush that crept up her neck from feeling so self-conscious. After a while, he had closed his eyes, a vague smile on his lips, hands loosely clasped over his stomach.

Gods, he was handsome. Though covered in beard, the stupidly attractive line of his jaw was still discernible, and the way it moved when he was mocking her, and the way he looked at her when he did... 

As usual, she chided herself for dwelling on his looks, though she reminded herself again that he was, in all objectivity, pretty stunning. Stronger women had been conquered by his charms. She might have been living with him for over a year, that had not diminished the effect in any way.

Even if he still left his dirty clothes on the bedroom floor.

She had thought him asleep, but the moment the credits music came on, he opened his eyes, and carefully sat up, stretching. 

“Okay, bed time now!” His announcement was met with a barrage of protests, which he dutifully ignored, lunging to pick up Tommen and Arya who were trying to escape. One over his shoulder and the other under his arm, he started making his way towards the kitchen door as they tried to grab anything they could to slow him down, laughing.

Brienne watched them go with a chuckle, glancing at Sansa and Myrcella who had wisely stayed out of it. “You gonna give me any trouble?” she asked them with a menacing smile. They quickly walked off, giggling, and she followed them upstairs.

It was already late when they finally got into bed. Probably even later when they finally fell asleep, as the Baratheons timidly asked if they could sleep with the Starks, which was granted, on the vain condition that they didn’t spend hours talking. They were all exhausted, anyway, so it would probably not last too long.

“So. About the plan,” Jaime started once they were finally back in the quiet of their bedroom, alone.

She let a beat pass, expecting him to go on. “What plan?”

He sat down on the bed, inviting her to do the same, which she did warily. 

“The original deal was to get married, foster the Stark girls until you could adopt them, then split,” he explained. Ah. That. “Then Tommy and Ella came in, but there was the possibility of them going back with Cersei, which...”

“Yeah.”

He looked at her with uncertainty. “So where do we stand on this now?”

Averting her eyes, she had a tired grin. “We’re actually sitting right now, Jaime.”

Bumping into her with his shoulder, he smiled nonetheless. “I’m serious.”

Sighing, she shrugged. “It’s pretty obvious what the best course of action is. We stay here. Raise them. See from there when it’s done.”

She could feel him stare at her, silent, until she looked up. Even in the faint light of their bedside tables, she saw the weight of the implications in his eyes. 

That was going to be their life for at least the next ten years. By the time they were done, she’d be thirty-six years old, at best, and he would be at the turn of fifty. She already had few chances of finding a life partner at twenty-five, a decade more... This would likely be the only family she would get.

And Jaime... by the way this was going, he would be fine. The silver slowly lightening his hair would not make him any less attractive, she knew. He would easily find someone young enough to have more children with if he wished. To have the rest of his life with.

“Are you okay with this?” The uncertainty in his voice brought her out of her thoughts, and she shrugged.

“It’s not like I had huge plans for the future.” He stared at her with a  _ come on _ expression, but she ignored him. “What about you? Can you live with ten more years of your father complaining about my existence?”

He scoffed. “At the funeral this morning, he told me that I should let him have the kids, stop my “stupid little pet project”,” he air-quoted, “that’s you and the girls - and focus on getting children of my own, because I’m the Lannister heir after all.”

“If only he knew...”

They stayed quiet for a moment, contemplating the magnitude of their situation, and of their commitment.

She sighed, feeling exhaustion squarely catch up with her now. “So, we’re doing this?”

It took a few seconds for him to reply, as he watched her with an odd look. “On one condition.”

That had been expected. Their prenup had included an infidelity clause, which in their original plan was simply to avoid a scandal in the short run. Brienne never had any intention to “cheat,” obviously, but with the marriage going forward for much longer than either had anticipated, she thought that Jaime might find it difficult to go... without.

The contract wasn’t of much use anymore, anyway, since the provision for the money didn’t matter either. She would not end up alone to provide for two teenagers, so she didn’t need the funds he had promised. Scrapping the whole thing would not be an issue for her.

“You go back to planning events.”

She stared at him in surprise, blinking. “What? Why?”

“You hate your job. You were much happier with your career than you ever were in that office. You don’t have to worry about money, and I can stay home with the kids when needed. You have no excuse.”

Studying his cocky face for a moment, she reviewed her options. He was right.

“So, what if I say no?”

“I’m going to the lawyer first thing in the morning to divorce you,” he shrugged, as if this was an unavoidable fatality.

It was her turn to bump him in the shoulder, and he laughed as she shook her head. “It’s been two years, and King’s Landing is a much harder field than the Northlands,” she argued weakly.

Truth was... the challenge was enticing.

“You can start with something small, like a party for the Solstice this summer. Invite the kids’ school friends. Maybe a few celebrities,” he added, laughing, as she tried to push him off the bed. “I mean, I know a few. Tyrion knows everyone worth knowing, and then some. We’ll find you something to do.”

Walking around to the head of the bed, he reached to take her pajamas from under her pillow, and threw them at her, signaling that she should go get ready to sleep. She mock-glared her way to their bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

She had known the reality of their situation pretty much from the start, she reflected as she changed, but it was still somewhat of a shock to see it materialize into an actual agreement. That he had approved their new plan when he still had the most to lose out of the two of them.

Once she was done washing up, they changed places, and she slipped into bed, shutting off her lamp, still somewhat dazed by the whole day. They would probably try to adopt both pairs of siblings at the same time, so that neither ever had any uncertainty about their situation, or being wanted.

There would be disbelieving looks for ten more years when they would go out in public: a famous demigod, an ugly freak, two blond-haired kids, two dark-haired ones. None of which bore any resemblance to her, evidently. Fortunately. She’d been mistaken as some sort of nanny more than once in the past year. It didn’t really bother her.

Said demigod came out of the bathroom, slipping into bed next to her. It still felt a bit odd occasionally, to be sleeping every night next to someone.

He shut off his bedside lamp, lying down on his side towards her.

It was weird, how she always knew when he was watching her. It wasn’t uncomfortable, at this point, not too much anyway. She waited a moment, but the question was needling at her mind too insistently.

“Do you want to cancel the prenup?”

A beat passed before he replied in a tired voice. “Why?”

“So you could... see people. Ten years is a long time.”

He said nothing, long enough for Brienne to wonder if he’d fallen asleep. She turned to look at him, and met his sleepy eyes. He shut them shortly after. “Nah. I’m fine.”

For some reason, she felt that didn’t quite answer her question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They got together for the kids. They're staying together for the kids :D
> 
> As always, if you have suggestions or requests of things that have not been written in the story, you're welcome to send them in [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/ZTGMGHS). Open to all and anonymous :)
> 
> The worst is over. But we still have 11 chapters left :3
> 
> Next update on Sunday!


	22. The New Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one! But the next two will be worth it, and then it'll be the final stretch ;)

Life resumed slowly, routine bringing everyone back to some version of normal. Tommen and Myrcella had some episodes of quiet sadness, but they slowly became less frequent. Their new family was as supportive as possible, all of them having at least an inkling of what losing a parent at that age felt like.

Jaime had been insistent on Brienne returning to her career, but she had argued that trying to jump jobs drastically would leave her with far too much free time, and it would drive her crazy. She’d advertise her services, pick up a few engagements, and progress as she made new clients.

He had reluctantly agreed, though not without mock-complaining that she could help with the housekeeping in her free time, so he could be a good husband and “bring home the bacon”.

“You don’t even like bacon,” she’d replied in a deadpan voice, not looking up from her book.

It wasn’t like she didn’t do her part, even with a full-time job. They both cooked, cleaned, did the laundry, took care of the kids... As far as partnerships went, he was quite certain he’d gotten a pretty great deal.

It wasn’t like they were just housemates, either. An unexpected effect of Cersei’s death and of the revelations that had come with it had been a much closer bond than Jaime could have ever imagined with anyone other than his sister. She never made any allusion to his secrets, and sometimes he wondered how much they weighed on her.

A part of him knew that all things considered, this was a gamble. She now had the tools to ruin him, if she ever wished to. That hadn’t been the reason for her asking about the prenup, he was certain of that. It would have been a stupid move: she couldn’t blackmail him without risking the safety of the children, and without the prenup, the Lannister attorneys would have a field day preventing her from getting a penny from him in a divorce settlement.

His upbringing had conditioned him to consider all those eventualities, but Jaime had felt guilty about it nonetheless. This was  _ Brienne _ , the one who had agreed to marry someone who was basically a stranger - one who’d antagonized her more than once, even - so she could save children who weren’t hers from a home she had no evidence was unsafe for them. Brienne, who had trouble with the simplest of lies, but had done her best because of the stakes. He had a hard time imagining riches bending her iron-clad moral compass enough to put the kids at risk. 

They hadn’t discussed his relationship with Cersei since the day of the funeral, partly because there had been very few occasions to, and also because she didn’t seem to want to know any more details. In a way, he wished he could have shared that with her; she had pretty much become his best friend, which was as it should be in a marriage, even a non-romantic one like theirs. But that was a step too much, for now anyway. Maybe in ten years, after they parted ways, and she didn’t have to look him in the eye every day anymore.

In the meantime, he cherished what they had.

Spring returned quickly enough, and with it new opportunities for Brienne to organize events again. Jaime prompted the kids to mention her availability to their friends’ parents, which earned her a few small contracts and him, a stern glare. It was worth it. The focus and interest in her eyes when she met with clients was a much welcome change from the tiredness she tried to hide whenever he met her for lunch at the city planning office.

Arya was finishing her last year at Visenya Elementary, which would leave Tommen and Myrcella on their own the following semester. They had been a bit worried about that, partly because after Cersei’s death, bullies had tried their hands a few times, but the young Stark’s crew - that she proudly called her Wolf Pack - had easily prevailed. Many of them were also moving on to high school however, which would make the circle a bit sparse.

Tommen had become a lot less shy, encouraged by his foster sister, but he was still a sensitive boy of ten who cried easily. That was not something that Jaime necessarily wanted to discourage, but he needed the confidence to stand up for himself, even alone.

He surprised both of his foster parents one evening at dinner when he requested to be enrolled in martial arts classes.

“Martial arts...?” Brienne glanced at Jaime at the other end of the table, who was as baffled as she was.

“Yeah,” Tommen tried to reply casually, “I just thought it might be fun.”

Everyone knew it wouldn’t be very  _ fun _ for the skinny boy. He had never been very athletic, and his natural timidity would be the biggest obstacle to overcome before any  _ fun _ could be had.

Still, it wasn’t the worst idea to help him come out of his shell.

“Can I go too?” Arya asked.  _ That would be a much better fit _ , Jaime thought, though the discipline part might be  _ her _ biggest challenge.

“You’ve already got football,” Brienne replied, “I’m pretty certain that the schedules would conflict.”

“I can drop football,” the teenager shrugged, engulfing a large bite of pasta. “Besides,“ she added with her mouth full, “I took some classes back in Winterfell. I could help Tom with it.”

The adults smiled at each other as the boy cast his sister a grateful look. Perhaps that would help with the school transition, as well.

“We’ll look into it,” Jaime announced, finishing his plate. “Anyone else got special requests?”

“I, hum,” Sansa started as everyone turned to look at her. “I applied to join the political club. They have meetings through the summer,” she added quickly.

“That’s a surprise,” Brienne frowned. “I didn’t know you were interested in politics.”

“Yeah, well,” the girl said, playing with her food, “you know. With dad.” Eddard Stark had been leader of the Northlands’ council, after all, and perhaps it might help her to both feel closer to her father, and regain some sense of control. Though she had been doing better, her time around Baelish was sure to have left invisible marks that would be difficult to heal. If the club did anything to help her through it, they could only encourage it. 

Brienne nodded with a small, sympathetic smile. “Well, I’m going to only be at the office part-time when the summer starts, so we’ll be able to get you all where you need to be. What about you, Myrcella? Is there anything you’d like to do this summer?”

“Can I go to Dorne?”

“Not on your own,” Jaime replied after a beat, earning an annoyed look from the girl. She was turning into a teenager, fast.

“Why do you want to go there?” Tommen asked, hinting that this was not something she had shared with her siblings. 

“There’s a horse show this year,” she replied. “Usually it’s in Essos, but they’re getting trainers from all over to Sunspear. One of my friends invited me,” she added casually, under the adults’ suspicious eyes. 

“Really? Who?” Brienne asked lightly, trying not to sound too wary.

Myrcella sighed dramatically. “You don’t know him. He’s a friend I made online. Nevermind.”

Jaime and Brienne exchanged an alarmed look. They  _ had _ explained safety rules to all the kids regarding internet use, and this seemed to bypass most of them.

“He’s not a serial killer, or anything,” Myrcella protested angrily when she caught their expressions.

“Oh? And you are certain of that because? He told you so?” Brienne shot him a reproachful look, but he couldn’t help himself. After what had happened to Sansa, that Ella would disregard - 

“Because he’s the son of Prince Doran.”

The reveal had the effect that she had intended, and she smirked at her plate as everyone stared at her.

“And you have proof of that?”

“We had video chats. He was at the palace in Sunspear. I checked pictures of the place online, and of him. It’s real.”

“How did you two come to talk?” Brienne tried to casually continue with her meal, but it was easy to see how alert she was despite the polite interest she showed. 

“What is this, an interrogation?” the girl complained.

“You’re asking to go at the other end of the continent to meet someone off the internet, Ella, and you just turned eleven. So yeah, it kinda is,” Jaime replied, a bit more forcefully than he had intended.

“Forget it,” she said, hunching over her plate. Her foster parents exchanged a glance as she resumed eating, clearly intent on finishing quickly to leave. 

Perhaps that was a discussion better had between just the three of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter on Tuesday! That one will have more meat, I promise ;D
> 
> And as always, click [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/ZTGMGHS) if you have suggestions for scenes that were not in the main body of the fic :)


	23. The Vacation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also one of my favourite chapters.
> 
> And the one after, too. Well. Pretty much all of the rest of the chapters are my favourites :3

The idea of a longer vacation for the whole family had been around from the start, though not necessarily in Dorne. However, after some discussions with Trystane’s father, Doran Martell, and with Margaery, who had happily agreed to supervise, it was decided that Myrcella would remain two more weeks in Sunspear after the rest of the family had moved on. They had all been invited to reside at the palace during their stay, which reassured Jaime: security would be at its very best.

A week in Dorne, a week on Tarth, and a week in Winterfell. Brienne had worried that it might be a lot of traveling for the kids, but they had all seemed very excited for the whole thing. Up north, Benjen Stark would come down from Queenscrown with Bran and Rickon, which would be the first time they would be physically reunited with their sisters since the fire. While there had been regular video chats from the moment the girls had been welcomed into their current home, it wasn’t quite the same.

And on Tarth, now that they had decided on making this family a long-term plan, they would all meet Brienne’s father.

She had spoken little of him, considering they were coming up on their second wedding anniversary. Selwyn had helmed one of the biggest marble factory on the island, Jaime knew that much, and Brienne had much affection for the man. He hadn’t been explained the extent of their situation, just that her marriage to a man he’d never met had a very good reason to be.

“I’m guessing he’ll expect a more detailed commentary while we’re there?”

She didn’t answer right away, focusing on the heavy laundry she was removing from the washing machine. “I kind of owe him that,” she finally shrugged, sorting the clothing that needed to dry on a flat surface. The weather was finally warm enough to make use of the clothesline outside, but she was always meticulous with instructions.

Not going home to visit her father since she had moved to King’s Landing had made her feel guilty, though she had kept in touch. She had missed his sixtieth birthday and his retirement, and the only reason he hadn’t visited himself was that she had told him not to.

When Jaime had asked why not, she’d answered that since things were so uncertain, she didn’t want him to get too attached to anyone. He’d lost enough children, she didn’t want to put him in a position to lose grandchildren, even in a softer way.

And though she didn’t say it, there was also that she was the last of the Tarth name, and could foresee no other kind of progeny.

“D’you think he’s gonna like me?” Jaime was folding clean clothes on the other side of the laundry room, and while he had asked in a light tone, it did worry him a little. If they were to spend the next decade together, he would at least like the man to think that his daughter was in good hands. Figuratively speaking.

“If you don’t say a word, he might,” she smirked, and he was tempted to throw her the pair of jeans he was folding. “If you do, the gods only know.”

“I’m serious. We’re spending a week there. What if he decides to hate me and... murder me in my sleep?”

“He wouldn’t murder you in your sleep,” Brienne scoffed, grabbing the heavy basket full of wet clothes and heading for the outside door. “He would challenge you to a duel and run you through with a sword. It’s not murder if it’s a duel,” she explained, exiting the room.

“Well that’s some comfort,” he said to himself out loud, before piling clean laundry in his own basket, and beginning his distribution run.

 

***

 

Their time in Dorne went by all too fast, he pondered, watching Brienne fold her swimming suit back into her suitcase, explaining that the weather on Tarth would not likely allow her to use it much.

They were embarking on a plane to Storm’s End the following morning, where they would be staying the night, and taking the ferry to Tarth the next day. Despite the existence of an airport on the island, she had insisted that they should take the ferry at least on one way, as it was “part of the experience”.

Tommen had been on a boat before, but Winterfell being landlocked, neither of the Stark girls quite looked forward to the journey. Jaime had taken care to bring enough nausea remedies for all of them, just in case.

Margaery had arrived in Dorne the day before, happily complimenting the vague tan her friend had managed to acquire. It was a wonder, as Brienne had refused to swim during the day, slathering herself with regular doses of sunscreen while remaining under the shade. He  _ had _ managed to convince his wife to come out at sundown, and they had enjoyed the warm waters without risking her skin.

While they were on good terms, Margaery had remained suspicious of Jaime from the start, and she didn’t hide it. Looking him up and down as he exited their hotel’s pool on their last day, she had smirked from her lounge chair. 

“What exactly are you trying to do?” the brunette had asked him accusingly.

Confused, he had simply blinked at her, before Brienne, seated next to her, squarely hit her friend’s arm with her book. They exchanged glares before his wife returned to her reading, ignoring him despite the blush creeping up her neck. Marge had simply waved him off. “Carry on.”

He was nearly certain he heard her say, “he does have a nice butt,” before another smack resonated, making him grin.

It was clear that Brienne was almost regretting her decision to agree to Myrcella staying for two more weeks when the time came to say goodbye, launching her into an adorable mom-mode that the teenager gracefully suffered through. She let herself be hugged by him, too, and he tried not to show his own worry as he kissed the top of her head.

He shook Doran’s hand vigorously, asking him to take good care of his niece. Almost slipping and saying  _ my daughter _ , though it could have passed. He was her foster father after all.

Tommen seemed sad to be leaving his sister behind, but he dutifully hugged her, making her promise to exchange pictures until they all returned home.

They finally departed for the airport, catching the shorter flight towards their next destination.

Renly and Loras joined them for dinner on their only night in Storm’s End, warned of their coming by Margaery despite Brienne’s protests.

“I have to say, I wouldn’t believe it when my sister told me you’d married a Lannister,” Loras confided in her as the others walked ahead. “I’m not sure I entirely believe it now.”

“And yet,” Jaime heard her reply. “I wouldn’t believe it when she told me you were engaged to her boyfriend.”

“And yet,” Loras answered, and Jaime couldn’t help but quickly glance back: both of them were grinning as if they’d been conspiring together for ages. Better that than making fun of her. 

“He’s pretty sweet on the eyes, so that’s not a bad deal. ‘S he as much a wiseass as he looks?”

She sighed dramatically, and Jaime knew she was aware of him listening. “Worse.  _ And _ he’s actually a good husband, so I can’t really complain.”

There was an impressed silence behind him, and a sort of pride bloomed in his chest.

“But how good of a  _ husband _ is he really?  _ You know _ .”

The innuendo was clear, and Jaime didn’t have to turn around again to know Brienne was blushing hard. An offended “ow!” followed.

“I don’t kiss and tell, Loras.”

No need to mention that they didn’t actually kiss. Well, normally. During the Winter Solstice celebrations, a sprig of mistletoe had mysterious appeared in the house, and the kids had insisted it was tradition for them to kiss under it. And for a second year, they’d pestered them on Lovers’ Day until Jaime pulled her in for a quick peck.

But that was it.

No one enjoyed the ferry nearly as much as Brienne did, much to her chagrin. It was nice to see her smile so much, as she watched the waves break ahead of the massive ship. Her mood had significantly improved since she had started planning events again, and he figured that the next ten years might be more interesting for her.

The trip took most of the day, landing them in Evenfall, where her family’s seat had laid. Selwyn came to greet them on the docks, a broad, white-bearded man even taller than his daughter, which Jaime hadn’t thought possible. For some reason, it suddenly dawned on him that they might get to see childhood pictures, and the thought got him through the crushing handshake he received.

“Jaime Lannister! How nice to finally meet you. Brienne has told me very little of all this,” the man announced, in a low, rumbling voice. His piercing grey eyes were already seeking some sort of truth out of his soul, Jaime felt, and tried to meet the unwavering gaze equally.

“I hope we can remedy that, sir,” he replied as sincerely as he could.

Still caught in the now painful handshake, Jaime held the stare until Brienne got tired of it, interrupting them.

“Dad,” she started in a warning tone, the one her husband knew all too well, “this is Sansa and Arya Stark, and Tommen Baratheon.”

“Ah,” the patriarch exclaimed, letting a handshake end to offer a much softer one to each of the children in turn, as he crouched down to look them in the eye. “I am very sorry for the loss of your families,” he told them solemnly. “But I happily welcome you all into mine.”

The kids seemed a little stunned, unused to being addressed in such a grown up way. But shy smiles made their way on all of their faces.

Having satisfactorily greeted the newcomers, Selwyn finally turned to his daughter, prompting an immensely fond expression on both of their faces. He wrapped her in a hug that almost dwarfed her, which was an odd sight.

“Look at you, married with kids,” he chuckled. “Not so long ago you told me not to expect anything of the sort from you. I’m glad life had other plans!”

“Yes, well,” she replied, pulling back and looking quickly at her husband, “I suppose  _ life _ does happen in unexpected ways.”

Her father hadn’t missed the glance, but said nothing of it, simply patting her shoulder and inviting everyone home.

Evenfall Hall was visible in the distance when they reached the white-walled cottage. Though the manor was still technically habitable, it had long been far too spacious for the diminished Tarth family. Brienne had mostly grown up in the house, she explained, following the death of her brother when she was barely five. Their mother had passed away years earlier, and so father and daughter had taken residence where the empty corridors didn’t echo with the ones they missed.

She didn’t detail all of that, but Jaime could imagine.

They were given rooms - all three kids would easily fit in the bed of her old bedroom, while the parents were offered the guest room.

“Blue walls, what a wonderful idea,” she commented with emphasis. The crimson of their own, at home, had never sat very well with her.

“You can just change it, you know. I never stopped you from doing that,” he protested, searching through his suitcase for toiletries.

“Like I have time to do that,” she scoffed. “Set your dirty clothes aside, I’ll do some laundry tomorrow.  _ Not _ on the floor,” she warned.

“So  _ I _ would have to change the decoration when it’s  _ you _ who don’t like it? And I can do the washing tomorrow. You go spend time with your dad.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s the laundry room in this house?”

“I’ll figure it out. I’ll go down to the shore and use a washboard if I must!” She stared at him, expressionless. “Look, I’m trying to impress your father by being a good husband, so I don’t get provoked into a duel, or something. I haven’t seen any swords lying around, but - “

“There are plenty at the manor,” she offered brightly.

“See? So appease the potentially murderous,  _ totally noble _ feelings your dad might have for me,” he added quickly, “and I’ll be here, safely doing the laundry.”

She observed him quietly, head cocked to the side, while he sorted through his clothes.

“You’re not  _ really _ afraid of him, are you?”

He chuckled. “I’m not  _ really _ afraid of getting murdered, no. But I  _ would _ like him to be comforted by the fact that, while you didn’t marry for love, you’re not stuck with a complete asshole. Well, let’s be honest, I’m not  _ that much _ of that asshole. But you know. Fathers.”

It took a few seconds, but Brienne’s facade cracked and she laughed. “Sure. A bit like you did with Trystane, I guess?” The boy had received his fair share of stares and suspicious glances while they had been in Dorne, that was true. But Myrcella would be staying with him for two weeks more.

“That’s different,” he argued, flinging pajamas onto the bed. “She’s  _ eleven _ . You’re a grown woman! Like. Really grown.”

“And you won’t feel the exact same way when Ella is twenty-six and brings a boyfriend to dinner? Or a girlfriend?” He opened his mouth to protest, but could not find anything to reply. 

Of course he would.

“Damn, you’re annoying,” he conceded, turning away while she snickered.

They all regrouped downstairs in the kitchen once they’d settled down, where they were served buttered toasts with warm goat cheese, which Selwyn explained was an island specialty.

He asked the children how they liked their travels so far, what kind of things they enjoyed most, if there was anything they looked forward to doing on Tarth. He only received short, shy answers until he mentioned visiting the manor and the medieval weapons that were displayed there.

Arya all but stood in her chair. “Can we try them? Ella’s boyfriend let us try blunted scimitars! Do you have suits of armour? Or a Valyrian sword?”

“Trystane did _ what _ ?”

“Jaime, it’s fine, I was there - “ Brienne tried to calm him down, and he could see that she was amused, probably because of their earlier conversation. 

“You didn’t tell  _ me _ that,” he chided her.

“No one got hurt, nothing was broken, they asked for my permission, and did it under my supervision,” she explained in a stern tone that clearly stated the discussion was over. For now. She turned to Arya. “There used to be a Valyrian sword on the island, named Oathkeeper, but it’s been lost for over a century. There are still tourney swords, I think?” she asked her father.

Selwyn had seemed to watch their argument with interest, but he smiled. “Yes, there are. We might even have some small enough for her to use.”

“And me!” Tommen exclaimed, drawing a hearty laugh from the man.

“And you, young man. Maybe Brie and I could even show you how it’s done,” he said with a wink to his daughter.

Jaime turned to her with interest, and watched her neck blossom in a blush.

“I haven’t practiced in a long time,”  _ Brie _ argued, though she didn’t appear to shy away from the idea.

 

***

 

“Sword fighting, huh?” Jaime asked after they were back in their room.

“Shut up.” She’d just returned from the bathroom to change, and slipped under the covers. The bed was smaller than their own, they had both noticed. She laid on her side, away from him, at the very edge of the mattress.

“I’ll definitely want to watch that.”

“Jaime, stop. Please.” There was much more seriousness and hurt in her voice than he had anticipated.

Concerned, he sat down, though he didn’t try to approach her. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re making fun of me for... what I look like. Again.”

“Woah, what? First, I’m not making fun of you at all. Well, maybe a bit, because I think it’s going to be pretty awesome and for some odd reason, you seem to be awkward about it. And second, when did I make fun of your looks?”

She turned to look over her shoulder. “Before we went down to eat. ‘ _ Like. Really grown _ ’?”

“I wasn’t - “ Her glare stopped the words on his tongue, and he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to mock you. I just meant that you could physically defend yourself, more to the point, sword fighting training,” he added. “I swear to you, Brienne, I didn’t mean to make fun of you. You’re just so...” He paused, looking for the rights words.

“Defensive? Overly sensitive? Overreacting?” she offered with sarcasm, and he knew those words had not originally come from her.

“Confident. You look so at ease at home, around me and the kids, I forget that it’s a sensitive subject for you. To me it’s just... you. And it’s really easy for me to overlook the effect it has on you because I don’t see how it affects you. I’m sorry, and I promise, I wasn’t mocking you.”

Her perfect blue eyes met his, with a slight smile and an almost imperceptible nod, before she laid back down. That would have to do for tonight.

Retrieving his toiletries, he headed for the bathroom down the hallway. “Besides,” he said just before exiting the room, “I want you to teach me swordplay, so I can’t exactly sneer at your skills.”

There was a smile in her voice when she replied. “Psh. You don’t have what it takes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't someone ask for a _fight_...? ;D
> 
> Only 9 chapters to go. Their relationship and their home situation have been set ~~well mostly~~ , so we just need to hone it in. And yes, it's going to nicely use the chapters left 8)
> 
> Next update... on Friday :)
> 
> And as always, click [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/ZTGMGHS) if you have suggestions for scenes that were not in the main body of the fic :)
> 
> P.S. Anyone else get Vitamic C's "Vacation" stuck in their head from the chapter title...? No?


	24. Sword Fight

The next day, after a short hike to the manor, everyone stood by and watched as Selwyn and his daughter sparred with tourney swords. Brienne was focused, swift and precise, and would have been deadly with an actual weapon, Jaime realized in awe. Her father did have a bit more practice, but she had youth and vigour on her side. When they finally stopped, the old man was panting, and she had barely broken a sweat.

She proceeded to demonstrate moves for Arya and Tommen, who dutifully repeated everything under her watchful eye. Explaining both the motions and how they related to the equipment that a knight might be wearing, she made them choreograph a mock-fight.

At first, Jaime thought that it was a side of her he’d never seen, but soon enough it became clear that there was the same rigour and discipline she demonstrated in all of her work. Ample and extensive preparation, focus, alertness, so that almost every eventuality could be quickly dealt with. And though she appeared solemn as she moved and taught, he knew she was very much enjoying herself.

There was a smug grin on her face when she handed him the sword Selwyn had used. “Ready to get your butt kicked?”

“You’re supposed to teach me, not humiliate me, remember?”

“Bah,” she replied, walking backwards towards the center of the training grounds, twirling her own weapon with a flick of the wrist, “they’re not mutually exclusive.”

Maybe she was enjoying herself a  _ little _ too much.

Patiently showing him and perfecting his moves, she questioned his previous training when he appeared quite adept at following her instructions.

“Are you kidding? My father would not have risked damaging his heir if he could help it, especially not with sharp edges. I don’t know, this just feels... natural.”

She looked intrigued, but didn’t push further. Soon they switched to sparring, and he was glad to find he could hold his own. Though clearly, she was going easy on him.

“I competed as a teenager,” she explained between two blows, “and the guys always underestimated me. It was almost ridiculous how easily I kept winning, even after they saw me knock their friends into the dust.”

When he finally managed to hit her thigh, she raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk quickly passing on her lips before she advanced on him, aiming blow after blow that he barely parred in time. She finally tripped him as he laughed, kicking his weapon away, and she stood over him with her wooden sword pointed at his throat.

“Do you yield?”

He was tempted to try and continue the fight, to make her tumble down on the ground with him and wrestle that grin off her face, but he remembered that their family watched, and Selwyn.

“I yield, my lady,” he sighed, resting his head back. The kids thunderously applauded his defeat, making him chuckle, and Brienne offered a hand to help him up. They exchanged smiles and she easily pulled him on his feet, dusting his back.

“That was pretty good for a beginner,” she complimented him as they went to put the swords back into storage. “You would probably have made a fine knight a few centuries ago.”

“Look who’s talking.”

She stuck her tongue at him. “I wouldn’t have been a knight. I would have been roped in an arranged marriage and risked my life in childbirth.”

“Ah, yes,” he mocked, “because you would have let that happen without a fight.”

Shouldering him off course as they walked back, she couldn’t help but grin. “I suppose I would have found it unfair to marry a man who couldn’t best me with a sword. I guess you got lucky we don’t live in those times.”

He had indeed.

Selwyn graciously waited until half of their stay had gone by before requesting that they join him for a drink in the kitchen after the kids had gone to bed. The reason for the chat was quite obvious, though Jaime had expected that Brienne would explain one-on-one.

It went quite well, all things considered. The old man appeared dubious that a Lannister would offer any help to a stranger, though he seemed satisfied with the explanation of mutual interest. When all was said, he turned to his daughter. His grey eyes might not be as striking as Brienne’s, but they were certainly as piercing.

“And are you happy with this?”

Jaime almost held his breath for the three interminable seconds it took her to answer.

“Yes, I am. This might not be the family you would have hoped for me to have, but I like my life.”

Selwyn nodded after a moment, then turned to his son-in-law. “Will you let her go, if she meets someone else before your time is over?”

The question completely took Jaime by surprise, much to his shame. Though he hadn’t considered the possibility of himself meeting anyone enthusing enough to actually leave their family, either.

“I - if it was only me, I would,” he replied, feeling less sincere than he sounded. “But we’re doing this for the children. So we’d have to discuss it.”

“Exactly,” Brienne agreed, red-faced once again. “Besides, it’s not like it’s going to happen - “

“Don’t put yourself down - “

“Dad, I’m not! I barely have a minute to myself, so  _ meeting _ someone? I have four kids to take care of, two jobs, kind of, and while Jaime does more than his share,” she added before either man could protest, “I don’t have the energy to spend trying to entertain a sixth person on a regular basis. It’s also not like I can explain to anyone that, yeah, I’m married to Jaime fucking Lannister, and we’re adopting four children together, but it’s cool, I can see other people.” 

Her audience simply blinked at her, silent, as she took a deep breath and swallowed the rest of her wine.

“Anyway, I’m off to bed. Goodnight.”

They watched her go, still a bit stunned. When their eyes met, Selwyn had a familiar reproachful expression.

“I know,” Jaime sighed. “I’ve been trying to convince her to take some time off for months. Surely you know how it goes when you try to force your daughter to do something she’s not keen on?” He was answered by a knowing groan.

“What about you?” his father-in-law asked after a quiet moment of sipping wine. “This is probably not the life you imagined you’d have. Are you happy with it?”

“Yes,” Jaime said honestly. “This is a pretty good situation, really. Brienne and I are doing surprisingly well as partners, considering how easily we got on each other’s nerves in the beginning. We have our differences, but I suppose even real couples have them. We’re making it work.”

“I can see that,” Selwyn said, rising to return the wine bottle to the refrigerator, placing his glass in the sink. “But my question was not whether or not it was  _ working _ . What I’m asking is, are you happy? Because even marriages full of love will crumble if one of the players wishes they were somewhere else.”

He patted Jaime’s shoulder as he passed him by, exiting the kitchen.

The room was dark when Jaime joined Brienne in bed. She didn’t react, her back once again to him, but he suspected that she simply didn’t want to talk. How a conversation in which they both agreed that everything was going well, her father seeming fine with their situation, could shake things up so easily, he’d never know.

Her hair had gotten longer, he noticed. She’d probably get it cut again soon. He had never really known whether she actually preferred it short, or didn’t think she could pull off anything else. There were many things she thought that of, somehow. Sometimes he wished she cared less.

But it wouldn’t really be her if she did.

She sighed, and he knew then that she was still awake. Turning around to look at him, her blue eyes managed their usual dazzle despite the darkness.

“Sorry. I was just thinking.” He wasn’t entirely certain of what he was apologizing for, but she seemed to have a knack for knowing when he was looking at her.

“What else did my father say?”

Jaime shrugged, smiled a little at her wary tone. “He asked me if I was happy, too.”

She said nothing, studying his face as she waited for his answer.

“I am.”  _ That _ felt a lot more sincere than he had expected.

“Good,” she replied quietly after a moment. There was nothing more to add, and she turned back on her side.

They would probably wake up leaning against one another again, or even cuddling, when morning came. He kind of felt that they both might need the affection earlier in the night than that, and it took every remaining drop of consciousness not to snuggle up to her. They weren’t quite  _ there _ yet.

He wondered if they would ever be.

 

***

 

Benjen Stark used the opportunity of their visit to Winterfell to ask for a favour. Bran had made good progress with his physical therapy, managing now to make short distances on crutches. But the resources in Queenscrown were limited, and the latest advances in medicine might never be available so far north. There were, however, treatments being developed in King’s Landing that may highly benefit the boy’s progress.

“It’s very difficult for me to leave my job for weeks at a time, you’ll understand.” Ben had been a ranger for the Queenscrown National Park, though his field activities had been greatly diminished now that he cared for his nephews. Still, his new supervising position would not be easily filled in his absence.

He asked if it would be possible for Brienne and Jaime to host Bran during treatments. She nearly agreed immediately, stopping herself when she remembered that it was not just her own decision. 

There would be logistics to determine: the guest room was upstairs, which would not be reachable for the boy; they would have to look into converting one of the ground floor offices into a bedroom. Bathroom accessibility, having the cars modified to receive his wheelchair -

“Yes, of course,” Jaime simply said. “I mean,” he added when he saw Brienne blinking at him, “you’ll have to give us some time to prepare everything, but if we can do anything to help, we’d be happy to.”

Benjen looked from one to the other, unsure, and she felt the need to reassure him.

“Of course, Ben. I thought we might have to discuss it, but it seems my husband and I are of the same mind on the matter,” she smiled. When they finally ended up alone at the end of that day, Jaime apologized for speaking before they could examine the issue.

“I just couldn’t imagine any reason why we wouldn’t do this,” he tried to explain, but she chuckled.

“You thought about it for two seconds, of course you couldn’t,” she mocked. “But you’re right, we’ve got the resources. That’s going to be a fifth kid on the roster, though. Maybe I should put off the event planning for a while - “

“Yeah, no, that’s not going to happen,” Jaime interjected. “No,” he repeated when she sighed. “Worse case scenario, we’ll hire someone to help us, but  _ you’re _ staying on course. You’re totally allowed to ditch the other job though.”

“Thanks for the permission, hubby.” She had meant it derisively, but he beamed at the moniker.

 

***

 

In the end, they moved Brienne’s office into Jaime’s, so Bran would not have to navigate through the living room to reach his bedroom. The water closet in the kitchen would be accessible with some maneuvering, and he could only take baths in their en-suite bathroom for now, as the shower downstairs would not be large enough to accommodate a bench.

They had relatively little time to prepare, as the developing team at the KLU research centre had emphatically welcomed him into their treatment program. Should this become a longer arrangement, Brienne surmised that they could remodel fairly easily during the following summer.

The new obligations caused a bit of friction between the children at first, as everyone had to readjust schedules and priorities. It eventually settled down as a new routine was established, and the first few weeks of treatments ended shortly before school started again. The next round would be in the spring.

Life went on quietly otherwise. Tommen’s martial art training did manage to give him the confidence boost he had needed, which greatly improved his attitude at school, both on social and academic fronts. Myrcella liked to sigh dramatically about her  _ boyfriend _ being so far away - a word that Brienne couldn’t hear from her lips without putting imaginary quotation marks around it. Sansa’s participation to the political club was quiet, but it was soon revealed to be strategic, as she easily swept up the position of president within months of joining.

As for Arya, though she  _ did _ have trouble with the discipline of martial arts, she was said to show great promise. She seemed to take that to heart, asking Brienne if she could join her morning run. The adults guessed her plan immediately, and before long, she was also asking for sword fighting lessons.

“If you teach her, you’ll have to teach me, too,” Jaime had argued.

“I’m not teaching anyone,” Brienne retorted.

“Come  _ ooooon _ ,” they both whined at her in near perfect unison, making her grin.

She did show them the basics, amidst the falling leaves of autumn, warning them that she would not tolerate swordplay indoors when the snow came. They had exchanged a complicit smirk that she quickly erased as she charged both of them, only to be overrun after a few minutes. They really were good students.

Winter came, and with it the second anniversary of their home. It was odd, to think it had been such a short time. Everything felt so ordinary, when just four years prior, all six of them had completely different lives.

When Arya and Sansa’s case worker, Ygritte, reached out to inform them that they could begin the adoption procedures, Brienne hesitated.

“We’ll discuss it,” she promised before ending the call.

Jaime was confused when she told him that night. He stared at her from the bathroom’s doorway as she washed her face. “We’ve been waiting for this for a year. We delayed adopting Tommy and Ella so we could do the whole thing in one batch and not have anyone feel left out. What’s the problem?”

She peered at his reflection for a long moment, conscious that the conversation ahead might be unpleasant. Finally she spoke.

“I don’t think Benjen plans on adopting Bran and Rickon.”

He blinked at her, trying to process her meaning. When she only watched him expectantly, he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his temples.

“You have  _ got _ to stop picking up strays.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he was already raising a hand in peace. “I know, it was a joke.”

Still, he wasn’t exactly wrong. But watching all the remaining Stark siblings play together when they were in Winterfell had planted a seed in her heart that simply refused to wilt.

“So, what do we do?” Jaime asked. “Tell him we’re prepared to take them off his hands permanently? I would find that insulting in his place.”

“Of course not,” she protested, turning to him as she dried her skin with a towel. “Clearly he loves them, but he’s not in the best position to care for them, and I’m certain he knows it. We can lay some groundwork, subtly remind him that we have the means - “

“ _ Subtly _ ?” he laughed. “I’m pretty certain he’s very aware of it.”

“That’s not the point. Do you know  _ any _ man who’s perfectly fine being reminded that someone else is doing better financially?”

“Brienne, don’t overthink this,” he pleaded as she made her way past him, to her side of the bed. “Bran’s going to be coming over for a few weeks at a time, we can see how that goes and just... see from there. There is not nearly the same urgency as there was for the girls.”

He was right. There was no need to rush it this time. Bran and Rickon were safe. And if Benjen was ever in trouble, she trusted that he would come to them. 

“Seriously, though: you have  _ really _ got to stop picking up strays,” Jaime repeated when she shrugged and slipped into bed, realizing that she was admitting defeat.

“You  _ look _ like a stray!”

“That is  _ not _ how you’re gonna pick  _ me _ up,” he winked, shutting the bathroom door on the cushion she threw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also one of my favourite chapters :D *hands you all a cool refreshments after that sword fight*
> 
> Four kids, six kids, what's the difference anyway right? :D
> 
> The next stretch will be Jaime doing something especially nice for Brienne, Brienne saying she hates it, and both of them realizing that they would much rather be with one another :3
> 
> And as always, click [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/ZTGMGHS) if you have suggestions for scenes that were not in the main body of the fic :)
> 
> Next chapter on Sunday!


	25. The Surprise

“Hurry up, kids, we’re going to be late if we get stuck in traffic!”   
  
This was typical of Friday mornings, with giggles and a general lack of motivation to do anything but stall the last, unappealing school day of the week. November had rolled around quietly, bringing a wave of cooler, wetter weather, and dampening everyone’s spirits with its moody grey skies.   
  
The main thing on Brienne’s mind in the past months had been the third anniversary of their new family. There was only a few weeks to go, and she had gone through a few ideas of how to celebrate the milestone. Jaime had smiled and teased her about old professional habits dying hard, but he’d listened to her ideas with interest.

“Where are my keys...?” While the question was a classic in most households, Brienne was not known for losing her things. She’d gotten even better since they’d moved in, and she liked to joke that her “mom instincts” had kicked in.

She suddenly noticed that Jaime had placed himself on the sofa by the window, sitting sideways so he could observe her frantically searching her coat pockets. 

With a grin. 

Sighing, she turned to him, giving up. “I don’t have time for this. Give me my keys. Where are the kids?!”

He simply sat more comfortably, still smirking. “You don’t need them. I mean the keys, but not the kids, either.”

“You’re not making sense, and I need to get going. Keys, now.”

His smile actually got even more mischievous, which was the exact opposite of what she was aiming for. He looked out the window beside him, waved to someone, or something outside, and got up to walk to her as she frowned suspiciously. 

He handed her a small craft envelope. She took it warily, and discovered her passport, a flight confirmation, and a pass for the Oldtown Medieval Convention. 

The kids rushed into the room at that moment, swarming her in excitement to see her shock. She’d mentioned that event  _ once _ , and had decided to not even consider attending. There was so much to do at home, taking a whole weekend to herself felt selfish. 

She stared at Jaime, who laughed at her wide eyes. “Your taxi to the airport is here. It’s a study day for both schools, so the kids are not even going anywhere. All the flight, rental and hotel information are in another envelope in your bag.”

When she remained speechless, he calmly turned her towards the children, who were waiting to hug her goodbye. 

“I - can’t.” Tommen was now suspended by his arms around her neck, and everyone protested at once. “Guys, I just - I’m not even packed! I have a meeting!”

“We took care of that for you,” Sansa explained smugly, earning an astonished look from Brienne. “The suitcase’s in the mudroom, and Jaime called your client  _ weeks _ ago, she’s not expecting you to show up today.”

“And if you happened to be missing anything while you’re there, you’ve got backup,” he added, pulling her wallet out of her bag. He revealed a black credit card with her name on it.

Looking at all of them laughing, she opened and closed her mouth several times, at a loss for what else to protest about. The car outside honked, and Arya and Ella simply hugged her waist, as Jaime pulled her so she was facing the door, gently pushing her towards the exit.

Escaping his grasp, she turned around, suspicious. “Why?”

“Because you deserve - “

“No no no. Why do you want me out of the house? What are you planning?”

They stared at one with serious another for a few seconds, under the tense gaze of the kids, before Jaime chuckled. “Brienne, I’m saddled with four teenagers, two of them more reasonable than I am. They’ll stop me if I try to do anything terrible, I promise.”

She smirked, and he saw her resolve to protest crack, and tried to push her on. She slipped away once again, wrapping her arms all around the kids into a bear hug as more honking was heard.

When she faced Jaime again, he had opened the door to the mudroom, where she indeed saw a blue suitcase with red tags waiting. He looked stupidly smug, and she threw her arms around his neck in a quick but tight hug.

“I-don’t-know-how-you-did-it-it-was-sold-out-but-thank-you,” she whispered quickly, then ran out to the car waiting outside.

Her whole family was on the porch waving as the taxi backed out, and she saw them walk back inside just before it passed the tree cover.

 

***

 

A review of the documents in her bag revealed the following: she was to fly out of King’s Landing at eleven that morning, giving her a bit over an hour to wait after the cab dropped her at the airport. It was a direct flight, which she knew would have been expensive, that would land in Oldtown three hours later. The convention was opening at five, which left her with ample time to get the rental car - thankfully not a sports car - and check into the hotel, one of the priciest ones in the city.

Jaime had included a brochure about everything that was offered with her room, which basically included anything that one could find in a spa, errand runners that could find her whatever she needed, and a car service should she choose to get inebriated at any point.

When she finally made it to the waiting area by her departure gate, she started to slowly emerge from her daze. Just how  _ long _ had they been planning that? The convention had been sold out for at least two months, which had been the last time she had wistfully checked the ticket sales page. Though she knew that there was little that Jaime wouldn’t be able to do through his network, and with his money.

They had all looked so happy and proud, and she was sitting there, feeling guilty. She suddenly remembered the football game she was supposed to take Arya to. Fishing for her phone, she wondered if one of the other parents would agree to take her.

The sound was a bit patchy when Jaime answered, and she quickly understood he was driving, with the call on speaker.

“You better tell me that you’re preparing to board your plane,” he warned as a greeting. He couldn’t see it, but surely imagined how she rolled her eyes. There was a definite smile in his voice.

“Yes, I am,” she confirmed. “Arya has a - “

“Game, I know,” Jaime interrupted, laughing. “We’re not  _ that _ useless without you, you know. We’ve got a  _ plan _ .”

“Well, you better not throw a party while I’m gone,” she half-joked, slightly worried at the mischief in his tone.

He scoffed, as if insulted. “Of course we’re throwing a party,” he said a lot more seriously than she thought he would.

“What?” They were not forbidden from it, but that was unexpected. She was about to remind him to keep an eye on some of Arya’s friends when he spoke up again.

“I’ll open up the liquor cabinet and have a stripper come over. Don’t worry, a male one, I know my audience,” he insisted.

“Jaime, you’re an idiot.” She was shaking her head, but she smiled.

“I’m  _ hilarious _ ,” he protested. “Now, are you gonna stop worrying about us, or do I have to block your calls? You’re supposed to have fun and relax, not fret over us from the other side of the continent. And by the way, the party we’ll be having is going to include pajamas, popcorn, a reasonable amount of candy, and sleeping on the sofas.”

Brienne sighed, knowing when she was defeated. She wasn’t exactly concerned, as such, but... a whole weekend was a long time to be away from all of them. Even if, presumably, she’d be otherwise occupied.

“You know I don’t do well with orders,” she complained. “Besides, blocking my calls would only make me worry  _ more _ that I couldn’t reach you.”

“Then you better start that relaxing part, so it doesn’t have to happen.” She stuck her tongue out at him, though he couldn’t see it, garnering weird looks from fellow passengers. “If you can’t do it with an order,” he continued, “then swear to try your very best to do everything you can to enjoy your weekend as much as you possibly can. You do well with promises.”

She was about to complain, but sighed again, giving up. “I swear.” She couldn’t see him either, but she knew how bright his smile was. Out of victory, mostly. “I’ll bring you back souvenirs,” she added.

“Oooh, yes, please get me a Brightroar replica. Life-sized,” he asked excitedly.

“Jaime, no one knows what the sword looks like. It was lost.”

“Now, you wouldn’t let something like that stop you, would you? I’m sure you’ll manage to get it through airport security as well,” he continued happily. “I mean, don’t stab people with it, that’s not what I mean,” he laughed, and Brienne refrained from face-palming.

“Okay, I’m gonna go now,” she announced. “Just - don’t do anything stupid,” she warned.

“You don’t know me very well, after all this time. Of course I’m going to do something stupid,” Jaime chuckled, and for a moment, she yearned to be there to witness it and chide him for his decisions.

“Okay, then don’t get anyone hurt, including yourself.” There was whining at the other end of the line, and she smiled. “Swear it!”

“Fine, fine, we’ll all be in one piece by the time you come home. Maybe pieced back together, but one piece nonetheless.” He pretended to grumble some more. “You  _ never _ let me do  _ anything _ ...”

“I’m tempted to remind you that you’re also supposed to be a responsible parent in this case, but I fear you just wouldn’t listen.”

“You  _ do _ know me after all!” he exclaimed joyously. “Have fun. We’ll see you on Monday.”

“Be good,” she warned.

“I’m the  _ best _ ,” he answered. “Take care,” he said after a beat.

“You, too.”

Brienne stared at her phone for a moment after the call ended, a slight, unpleasant feeling of hollowness creeping in. How stupid was it that she missed them all, already? It had only been two hours. School days lasted longer.

Checking the info for the return flight, she learned that it was scheduled for the following Monday, leaving Oldtown at three in the afternoon, and landing after six. That would be a whole extra day away.

Sighing, she looked at the clock. Twenty more minutes before boarding. Pulling up the schedule on the convention’s website, she decided to try and plan her weekend to get the most out of it. She had promised, after all.

 

***

 

While she was glad the car Jaime had reserved for her was not a luxury brand, it was a very comfortable, vibrant blue sedan, equipped with a high-tech GPS. She’d never been to Oldtown, which had worried her at first, but the device easily guided her to the hotel.

The Citadel was one of the most expensive chains on the continent, a proud export of the Reach. She’d only ever visited one briefly when a client of NorthStar Events had considered White Harbor’s as a venue for their soirée, but negotiations had gotten nowhere with the administration.

This time, as she entered the marble lobby with her cheap suitcase, dressed in her casual-client-meeting-appropriate clothes, she garnered the same looks she had back then, but walked through it all with the confidence her private suite afforded her presence.

The lady at the desk seemed unsure how to address her, and smiled accordingly. Pre-empting any further awkwardness, Brienne spoke quickly and firmly.

“Good afternoon, how are you? Brienne Tarth, I have a reservation.”

A short round of paperwork later, she unlocked her door of her room - an apartment, really - on the twelfth floor. The first thing that hit her was the view: the large bay windows of the living room showcased the harbour and the Sunset Sea beyond it. The sun was already more than halfway lowered into the sky, casting a golden light both on the water and the buildings surrounding it.

It was breathtaking, though she couldn’t help but have a thought for the blues of the Narrow Sea and the Shipbreaker Bay that surrounded Tarth. She’d have to bring the kids to see that again soon, perhaps the following summer.

Taking a picture of the harbour with her phone, she sent it to Jaime. 

**_B:_ ** _ A suite with seaside view? Really? You could have at least tried :P _

She barely had time to grab her suitcase before he called.

“You better be calling to apologize,” she warned as she stuck the phone between her ear and her shoulder, fishing for her toiletries in the neatly packed luggage.

“Money is wasted on you, it’s terrible,” he pretended to complain in lieu of a greeting. “How was the flight?”

“Uneventful, which is a good thing because I wasn’t quite mentally prepared. See, my husband sprang this on me out of  _ nowhere _ \- “

“Now now, don’t try to undermine my qualifications. If I had told you any earlier, you would have tried to talk yourself out of it. It’s your own fault for being so damn stubborn.”

“I’m not  _ that _ stubborn,” she pouted, entering the bathroom to leave her toiletries. The shower was nearly a room in itself, and promised at least three kinds of different ways to have the water run, a wooden bench, and a whole panel of controls. The tub was clearly deep enough even for her to soak comfortably with the water up to her neck, and was lined with what seemed to be water jets. 

She stood, momentarily speechless, until Jaime realized that she wasn’t answering anymore.

“Brienne?”

“Mm?”

“What happened?” His tone was gently mocking.

“I just... walked into the bathroom.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that tub is so comfortable, you can basically fall asleep in it.”

It took a moment for her brain to register what he said. “I - what? How do you know?”

“I’ve been to hotels all over Westeros, Brie. You’re not in  _ the _ most expensive one in Oldtown for the very good reason that this room is pretty much the best I’ve had, ever.”

An inexplicable blush rushed to her face. Not that his overall behaviour since they’d started cohabiting had been anything but considerate, but that felt like a particular attention that oddly moved her.

She was prevented from thinking it over much further. “Has my gift arrived yet? I would imagine it hasn’t, since you didn’t mention it.” The mischief in his voice was taunting.

“No, I - a gift? All of this is already a gift! Why are you doing this?”

The conversation’s atmosphere suddenly changed, and she felt overwhelmed by a feeling of inadequacy. This wasn’t her. It wasn’t what she wanted.

“Brienne.”

“Answer me. I don’t - “

He almost sounded angry as he cut her off. “If you say that you don’t deserve it, I swear I’m gonna take the next flight out and lock you in that room until you start believing that you do.”

“Jaime - “

“No,  _ listen _ . You deserve a break. You haven’t stopped since we moved in. You work, you take care of the kids - “

“It’s not like you’re not doing anything! And I don’t need a break from the kids!” She walked back to the living room, trying to pace out her frustration.

“You  _ do _ need a break from the kids. Any parent does. You’re not abandoning them, you’re taking a weekend for yourself. For what  _ you _ love - “

“I love - “ She stopped herself, turning the sentence in her head. “I love my life, I don’t need all of this,” she finished.

“Of course you don’t,” he conceded. “That does not mean in  _ any _ way that you shouldn’t enjoy it. It’s not even four days, Brienne. You promised.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing them in annoyance. He’d known she’d get to this point.

“I hate you,” she announced with a sigh.

“No, you don’t,” he countered cheerfully.

“Yes, I do,” she insisted, and his reply was lost when the room’s phone rang.

“Oh? What was that?” he asked, feigning curiosity. 

_ You know damn well what that is. _ “Ugh. You’re an idiot. I’ll call you back later.”

Without waiting for an answer, she disconnected the call. The receptionist downstairs informed her of the presence of two men who were delivering a small crate. Brienne had half a mind of sending them away, but she had the lady allow them upstairs to her room. What could Jaime have possibly sent her that needed a  _ crate _ ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok first: I know the slow burn is terrible, but I can promise that they do end up together. I've had a few people seem to question that, but it'll happen! I promise!
> 
> Second: just in case you didn't understand it from the text, we've had over a one-year jump since the end of the last chapter. [HERE](https://78.media.tumblr.com/39cd40d30d83e403ef28cc6a8961b1c6/tumblr_inline_p8zo4od74J1t88wim_540.jpg) is the updated timeline. That is done in order to move forward with the story, but not add endless normal daily life and thus, expanding the slowness of the burn. As always, you can click [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/ZTGMGHS) if you have suggestions for scenes that were not in the main body of the fic :)
> 
> Then: this is Jaime doing something nice JUST for Brienne. And they have never really been apart for that long since they started this, and they've now started this thing 3 years ago. So this is a Big Gesture that will make them realize that there are Big Feelings.
> 
> Next update on Tuesday!


	26. Realisations

A few minutes after Brienne hung up, Jaime received a text message. 

**_B:_ ** _ I don’t have the words to scream at you right now _

He smiled, a bit sad that he couldn’t see or hear her reaction in person. 

**_J:_ ** _ Happy screaming I hope? :D _

**_B:_ ** _ I don’t know yet _

She would love it, he knew. She would probably never find the proper words to express it, might even use the opposite ones in an attempt to do so, but she was pleased.

**_J:_ ** _ Send me a picture when it’s on :D _

When no answer immediately came, he hoped that she was not trying to give him the silent treatment. That wasn’t quite her type, but it  _ was _ a pretty big surprise.

Sansa was looking at him suspiciously when he returned to the kitchen, having made the call in their office. He hadn’t told the kids about that part of the plan, and he hoped they would be as excited as he wished Brienne to be.

“What did you do?” Sansa asked accusingly. Clearly the teenager was starting to take a bit too much after her foster mom.

“A good thing,” he said, confidently. “Brienne’s going to be thrilled, once the shock passes.”

Sansa rolled her eyes with a smile, returning to her school book as he started taking out cookware. She and Jaime had come a long way since that rocky first year, but the slightest tension had remained between them, much to his chagrin. He hoped that she understood that he wasn’t wary of her: he just didn’t know how to address it.

As he began cutting up vegetables, he could hear the younger three in the common room upstairs, putting one of their stories into action. Both he and Brienne loved to covertly watch them at it, revelling in the innocence of it all. They’d gone through so much, and seeing them thrive despite it all was even more fulfilling than Jaime could have expected.

The idea that they would have scinded that home in two seemed unthinkable now. Instead, they were hoping to add two more kids to the family. Bran was still continuing his treatments at the KLU research center, making good progress, and they would invite Rickon along the following summer.

Jaime briefly wondered what his life might have been by now had he not met Brienne, or fomented the ridiculous plan of a platonic marriage to her to foster children he’d never met. Probably bored, still working full-time at Kingsguard, still avoiding Cersei. Had his decisions affected his sister’s in any way? Would she have murdered her husband if he hadn’t wed Brienne? Would she still be alive - 

He shook the questions off his mind, dumping some of the diced veggies into a pan. There was no way to ever know what might have been, and no point to keep wondering. They had done what they had believed to be right. Listening to the kids play, watching Sansa safe in their home, knowing that all six children would have a loving family that would provide for them, he could never doubt that it had been the best decision possible at the time.

It hadn’t been without challenge, but what relationship was? They had become quite effective partners, Jaime mused, adding ground meat to the pan to cook. At the very beginning, he had thought her impossibly naive for her blind trust in a stranger like him, even if it served him. For a long time, he had believed that she’d been lucky to end up with him, until he had noticed how she had affected him. How much more relaxed he was around everyone, how his days held colour, how much love he felt for all of his new family. The luck was his.

It was unlike anything he had ever had with Cersei. His relationship to both his twin and their children had been tainted by the resentment of her plotting, whereas Brienne’s innocence and sincerity outshone any darkness his sister had left behind in him.

He hadn’t quite found the way to convey his gratitude for that yet, but he hoped that the weekend he had organized for her would be a good start.

A notification chimed on his phone, and he opened the text message as he stirred the pan. Brienne was glaring at the camera, all clad in the blue, custom-made armour, fitting perfectly, belts cinched around her waist. The scabbard that hung on one of them was empty, he knew, as the convention wouldn’t allow cosplayers to wear any sort of weapon. The effect was still striking.

With her height, her bulk and her scowl, she was fearsome.

**_B:_ ** _ You DID get my measurements right, asshole _

He chuckled, catching Sansa’s attention again. “What is it?”

**_J:_ ** _ I am so very delighted that I did, my lady :D The blue goes well with your eyes :) _

The teenager had come up next to him now, tiptoeing to try and see the screen. Jaime playfully put it out of her reach. “It’s not suitable for children,” he argued, before realizing the reason for her shocked look. “ _ NO _ , not like that. I meant she wrote a swear word.”

Sansa gave him an unimpressed look, holding a hand out for the device. He gave it with a sigh, a smile still plastered on his face, and moved to pour the now browned meat and vegetables to a larger pot, and then repeated the process. Meat sauce for the whole family required a whole afternoon to prepare nowadays.

Moving out of his way, she returned to her seat, which effectively put the kitchen island between them. That made him a bit nervous, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to dive to get the phone back from her. 

“ _ My lady _ ? Really? Why do you keep calling her that?”

“Well, technically, she  _ is _ my lady wife. It’s a term of endearment,” he shrugged.

“She ever call you her  _ lord _ husband?”

“Not a chance.” He smiled. Hearing Brienne call him her husband, as she had done earlier, always pleased him, despite the fraud of it all. It was a nice feeling, to sort of belong to someone.

As the teenager scrolled up the conversation to the picture Brienne had sent, Sansa let out a soft whistle. “How much did  _ that _ cost?”

Grinning, Jaime fished for spices in the cabinet. “Less than it would have if she could have had the sword with it.”

“She’s going to be so pissed.”  _ Definitely taking after Brienne. _

“Yeah, she is,” he chuckled. “She’ll forgive me after she walks through that convention.”

When the teenager stayed silent for a moment, he became a bit concerned that she might be going through his phone. Looking up, he found her leaning against the counter, studying him. She gave the device back wordlessly when he reached for it, but her quietness was a bit unsettling.

“Why do you do that?” she finally asked.

“Do what?”

“Antagonize her.”

That was a bit painful. He turned back to the stove, cooking another batch of ingredients. “It’s  _ good _ antagonizing! I’m doing nice things for her!”

“But why can’t you do it in, I don’t know, just a  _ nice _ way? She’s really not that hard to please, you know that.”

He sighed, pushing the vegetables around in the pan to buy time. Of course he knew. She’d have been pleased if he’d simply printed a photo gallery of the event. She had said she loved her life, he recalled, and he knew that was true.

“I just think she deserves more,” he ended up replying. “Even if that conflicts with what she  _ thinks _ she deserves. I have no regrets going up against her on that.”

He busied himself with the cooking, oddly feeling as if he’d been accused. Sansa hadn’t moved when he turned to get the last batch of ingredients from the cutting board. She was still staring at him, and when he raised his eyebrows at her questioningly, she straightened up with a sigh. 

“Gods, you’re both  _ such _ idiots.”

“Yeah, she keeps telling  _ me _ that,” he muttered as the teenager made her way upstairs. 

 

***

 

Brienne called around the kids’ bedtime, having them tell her about their day, and promising to bring back pictures and stories. They were all excited for her to return with the armour, asking if they could organize a joust in the yard when summer returned. Clearly the planning for that was going to continue long after he’d left their bedroom, Jaime realized, but it was Friday night. He might get to sleep in a bit later the next day.

“How was the convention?” he asked when he returned downstairs with the phone, stretching as he headed for the living room.

“Amazing. Everyone was surprisingly friendly, some a bit too much, and everything is just  _ fascinating _ .”

“ _ Too _ friendly?” He sat at the crook of the sectional sofa, settling back.

“Well, no, I don’t think friendly is the word. Like, this huge guy, dressed as a wildling, reeking of beer, he kept following me from a distance and smiling at me. It was a bit creepy, really.” She seemed more annoyed than concerned, but Jaime found it unnerving.

“Did you notify security?”

“Nah, I can take him. It’s just a bit irritating to find him staring at me every time I turn around,” she said, dismissing Jaime’s concern. “The armour’s a hit, by the way, congrats on that.” There was a smile in her voice, and he echoed it.

“Maybe you should tell that guy that your  _ husband _ gave you that armour,” he suggested, still annoyed at the thought of a creep following Brienne around. “Also I hope it’s not a literal hit, even though it’s supposed to be designed to sustain quite a beating,” he mused.

“You’re an idiot,” she replied, and he grinned, recalling his conversation with Sansa. “I don’t think it would deter him, he seems that type. Anyway, like I said,” she yawned, “I can take him.”

“I’m sure you can,” Jaime agreed, then, cringing as the words left his lips, “just don’t forget to use protection when you do.”

“UGH,  _ NO, _ ” she immediately protested, making him smile. She was definitely blushing now. “Why would I do that?!”

“In order not to have huge babies that stink of beer?”

“Jaime, you’re disgusting.”

“More or less than that guy?”

“Equally. For different reasons.”

_Aw._ “Well, at least I already married you, so I got that going for me.”

“You married a large freak out of charity and necessity, I don’t think that’s necessarily a win for you,” she argued. 

He always hated it when she called herself that. “I married a badass lady knight whom I could help on her quest to protect and care for her charges. I’m very certain it is a pretty good win for me.”

She sighed, and he could imagine her roll her eyes. “That’s going to stick, isn’t it? The knight thing?”

“If you insist,” he smirked, and he heard her grumble. “You should go to bed, you’re beginning to get grumpy.”

She repeated his words with a mocking tone, making him laugh. “I still have to remove your stupid gift,” she whined.

“They showed you how, I hope?”

“Of course they did. And how to put it on alone. I didn’t drive the car to the convention wearing armour, Jaime.”

“So why are you wearing it now...? You’re back at the hotel, right?”

She stayed quiet for a moment, realizing her mistake, his grin growing with every passing second.

“You put it back on, didn’t you? You love it.”

“Shut up, Jaime.”

“You really like it! Point for me! I hope you know that getting those measurements discreetly was a pain. Now I feel like I should get you a  _ horse _ \- “

“ _ Goodnight,  _ Jaime!”

She disconnected the call, leaving him laughing alone in the living room. Still chuckling, he pulled up his text messages.

**_J:_ ** _ Goodnight, my lady  <3 _

He hadn’t really thought while writing it, but it looked a bit odd after he’d sent it. They rarely ever used  _ hearts  _ in their messages. He saw the status change to ‘Read’ with the timestamp next to it, and waited for several seconds for the telltale three dots to turn into a reply.

**_B:_ ** _ :P _

Nothing on TV proved interesting enough to quell the buzz at the back of Jaime’s mind following her reply. The text had entirely been in the spirit of the conversation, but it felt... annoyingly lacking.

He didn’t go to bed much later.

Her usual nagging about his dirty clothes on the floor came to mind as he undressed, and he realized with childish glee that he could get away with it this weekend. He could even sleep naked, if he liked, he reflected as he landed a perfect throw in the hamper across the room. She had wanted to wash the bedding anyway. He had time to do that before she returned.

Slipping between the sheets, he stretched as wide as he could, enjoying the softness against his bare skin. A shiver went through him, and he instinctively curled on his side, towards Brienne’s side. That source of warmth would be no help from across the continent, he realized, sighing.

Sleep came nearly an hour later, after much tossing and turning, and he finally drifted after his shifting took him into her spot, nuzzling her pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookies to everyone who guessed it was armour ;D (and to everyone else, just cause)
> 
> I'm with Sansa. They're _idiots_. Not for much longer, I promise! Next chapter's going to be cute and heartfelt, and the one after even more. ;D
> 
> Next update is on Friday!
> 
> As always, you can click [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/ZTGMGHS) if you have suggestions for scenes that were not in the main body of the fic :)


	27. The Return

Sunday afternoon came around a lot more quickly than Brienne had thought it would. 

When she had examined her convention pass in the taxi from to the airport, it had revealed that not only was it conferring her VIP access to any of the weekend’s events, but it also allowed her to take two guests along.

She’d thought it odd at first, as she obviously was heading there alone, but by the time Friday had ended, she’d made several new friends among the other visitors, all dazzled by her armour. She had ended up taking people along to almost all of the events she attended. Thanks to her singular looks and courteous attitude, most of the staff and vendors had quickly taken a shine to her, and she did her best to also share the spoils that it got her with some of her deserving newfound friends.

They all left the convention centre a few hours before the official closing on Sunday, exhausted. Most of them had to start on their return journey, their regular life generally not as flexible as Brienne’s seemed to be. After a last meal together and duly exchanged contact info, Brienne made her way alone back to the hotel.

Her armour laid in its open case, on the hotel bed, and she admired it for a moment more. It had been a great weekend, and despite her childish refusal to admit it to Jaime, she had been thrilled by his gift. How he’d managed to get everything right, she had no idea, but he had. She would need to think of a way to return the favour.

Though she would still have the morning to repack her suitcase, she distractedly started to gather her belongings from across the suite. There was probably much to do in the city, still, she thought as she glanced at the bay windows. It was only a bit later than the time she had arrived, two days earlier, but the sun had already plunged behind the line of buildings. The harbour was dark and gloomy, and she shivered.

The sudden realization that she didn’t want to spend another night in that city hit her. She hesitated for a moment, before checking the details of her return flight. The airline, Andal Air, also had a late flight to King’s Landing on Sundays, only a few hours later.

After a quick chat once she reached a booking agent on the phone, Brienne was on her way to the airport.

 

***

 

The pressure change woke her as the plane started its descent towards the Aegon I Targaryen airport. She watched as the city lights creeped closer, the Blackwater an ominous void under them. She had never been scared of flying, but felt a certain... urgency to return home, for no apparent reason.

Patiently waiting for her luggage at the carousel, she hoped that transportation wouldn’t have damaged the armour’s case too much. She wasn’t worried about its contents much: Jaime had said it was designed to take a beating. Not that it would ever get one.

She hadn’t notified him that she was coming home early, hoping to surprise them all in the morning. She’d sleep in her office, provided she was able to come in quietly enough not to wake him up. The kids’ shock would be enough, should it come to that.

Her eyes were searching the signs for the taxi platform when she exited into the public arrival area... only to fall on Jaime’s beaming face.

Unexpected relief flooded her as she smiled and made her way to him, pushing her luggage cart aside. He easily pulled her into a tight hug, and she let herself fall into him, wrapping her arms around him, her cheek against his shoulder. No teasing quip came up, he simply held her close, stroking her back, and for a moment she thought she might fall asleep in their embrace.

The oddness of his presence poked at her mind.  “How are you here?” she asked, without moving from her spot against his shoulder. She could imagine a few mocking replies he might have come up with. Instead, his answer was straightforward.

“I booked the flights online. When you changed the reservation, I received an email confirmation.” She could feel his breath again the skin of her neck, just below her ear, tickling. “I’m guessing you wanted to surprise us, but I thought that having a familiar, immediate ride home might be more appreciated.”

He was still holding her firmly, and she had very little incentive to move away from his warmth. But duty called. She pulled back, vaguely registering the looks they were getting.

“Where are the kids?” 

He looked at her with half a smirk, and she noticed the crow’s feet around his eyes, the hints of grey in his eyebrows. She’d noticed it all before, of course, and had sighed inwardly at the time that,  _ of course _ , he was one of those men who aged like fine wine. But she’d never quite had the occasion to see it from this close.

She knew the glint in his eyes before he opened his mouth. Three minutes. It had taken three minutes.

“I ditched them on the side of the road,” he said. “They were slowing me down.”

Against her better judgement, she cracked up, pressing her forehead to his shoulder in mock despair. He seized the opportunity, pulling her back against him. She heard him chuckle.

“It’s a school night, what do you think? They’re at home, in bed.”

“Alone?” She didn’t like the sound of that.

“Sansa’s up until we come home.” From his tone, he totally knew she wasn’t on board with it.

“Jaime, she’s fifteen.”

“And wise beyond her years.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Can we - “ He grabbed her hands - “can we not fight already? Let’s just go home?”

He pushed her luggage trolley towards the parking elevator when she agreed, and she followed with a sigh. They were silent until he reached the highway, at which point she just felt like asking him to pull up so she could return to the hugging part.

“I’m sorry,” she let out, leaning her temple against the cool window. Flurries of snow illuminated by the headlights made for a hypnotizing visual, and she shut her eyes, ironically trying to fight the tiredness that was threatening.

“What for?” He didn’t sound angry, but his voice didn’t have the gentle, warming tone it had had back at the airport.

She took a moment to think it over. “Getting angry,” she finally answered. “I - I just - “

“You’re tired, I know,” he said softly, glancing at her.

“Yes, but... Jaime, I’m not worried about Sansa being irresponsible. But if anything were to happen while neither of us is there - what if there was a fire? What if she froze in fear, because of - “

“Hey, hey.” His hand grasped hers, and she knew she was being emotional, but the thought of any of the kids having to deal with any further trauma haunted her.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve already said that,” he teased gently, his thumb running over her knuckles. “And I understand, it’s fine. I won’t leave them on their own again. I promise.”

Brienne glanced at him, and he didn’t seem to be mocking her. Their eyes met, and he squeezed the hand he was still holding. She smiled, returned the pressure, then let go with a sigh. “You should probably keep both hands on the wheel with this weather.”

A slight roll of eyes and a smirk, then a pout. “You  _ never _ let me do  _ anything _ ...”

Sansa hugged her tightly when they arrived, making her swear to parade the armour the next evening before being ushered upstairs to her bedroom. Jaime brought the luggage to their room as she finally got a chance to relieve her bladder, and gently pulled her away when she tried to start and unpack her suitcase. 

“Unless you need it tonight, it waits until tomorrow. Do you want to shower? Otherwise it’s bedtime,” he chided.

She stared at him for a moment, trying to make a decision, but he beat her to it.

“O-kaay, too tired to choose. PJs, bed. Go.” He turned her around, guiding her to her nightstand as she laughed. “You do that, I’ll just finished tidying up.”

Watching him exit the room, keeping the curtained glass door barely ajar, she sighed. He would make a good husband. He  _ was _ being a good husband, but... when he married someone he chose. That woman would be lucky.

He returned as she was brushing her teeth in the bathroom, and she heard him quickly change in the bedroom. A reflection first of him pulling his shirt over his head, then of the back of his thigh caught her eye in the mirror. Still ridiculously, perfectly toned. He’d just turned forty, for Stranger’s sake. How long could he keep looking that perfect?

Attempting to give him ample time to make himself decent again, she observed her own face. Her lips were chapped from the cold, and the incessant chewing when she was worried. Her freckled skin was always almost terrifyingly pale at this time of the year, never getting quite enough sun during the winter months. She picked at a dry speck, grateful that the constant heat-cold-heat damage had yet to settle in.

She traced the the line of her nose from the forehead, gliding over the bump below the bridge. Perhaps she’d get surgery, one day. For the vestige of broken bones and perhaps for the size of it all. She’d have the money. There was nothing to be done about the width of her mouth, though many women would envy the fullness of her lips.

Leaning closer, she looked back at her eyes. Jaime always said they were stunning, but she never could quite see it. They were of an unusual shade of blue, sure, but it didn’t feel as extraordinary as he made it sound. Her blond eyelashes didn’t even frame them properly without a generous layer of mascara.

In contrast, all of Jaime’s traits were perfectly proportioned. He had a small scar just below his right cheekbone, but that was the end of his imperfections. Even in the bleak winter, his skin refused to quite lose its golden tone. His toothy, charming grins still melted the heart of most women he met. His confident emerald eyes, even tired, were piercing -

It took her a moment to realize she was staring at his reflection in the mirror. He smiled, raising an eyebrow with concern. “You okay?”

She shook her head, blushing. “Yeah, just spaced out.”

He let her exit the bathroom, shutting the light off as she made her way to her side of the bed. Slipping under the covers, she watched him do as much. Lying on her back, she stared at the ceiling, suddenly concerned that sleeping on the plane might have ruined the rest of the night.

But that wasn’t quite it. The bed felt uncomfortable. Not physically: she was glad to be returning to the familiar smoothness of their sheets. But there was an unspoken awkwardness that needled at her. 

Jaime was laying on his side, facing her. There was the usual space between them. While they often ended tangled up in the morning, they always fell asleep each on their own side of the bed.

She heard him whisper “goodnight” softly, but couldn’t answer. After a moment, she murmured back.

“Jaime?”

“Mmm?”

Without turning, Brienne knew he was watching her. She realized that she had no idea how to formulate her request, and was at a loss for what to say next.

He took her silence for not having heard her answer. “Yeah?” he spoke a little louder. 

“Can I - “ She blinked at the ceiling, then with a sigh, turned on her side to face him.

They were suddenly much closer than she had thought they would be, but though his eyes widened a bit in surprise, he didn’t move.

“I just - the bed at the hotel was just so... big. It was weird and kind of - “

“Empty?”

She had a small nod and he smiled. Moving closer to her still, he repositioned himself so his chin pressed gently against her forehead, wrapping an arm around her side and up her back.

“Yeah, here too.”

She snuggled into the embrace, happy to find the same warmth they had had at the airport. 

“Jaime?”

“Mmm?”

“It was amazing. Thank you,” she said softly, and she felt him smile, his lips and beard soft against her skin.

“My pleasure.”

They didn’t speak again, and she fell asleep to the rhythm of his breathing, and of his thumb gently stroking between her shoulder blades. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wait is practically over!!
> 
> Next update on Sunday!! Only 5 remaining chapters!
> 
> As always, you can click [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/ZTGMGHS) if you have suggestions for scenes that were not in the main body of the fic :)


	28. Traditions

The first thing that Brienne had announced when preparations for the Solstice began, some two weeks before it was to take place, was that mistletoe was banned from the house. The kids had laughed and pretended to complain, but she had reiterated the ban sternly.

“I will make you eat it, whoever brings some in. And if I can’t find out who did, all of you will get a bite,” she warned one night as they discussed their plans in the kitchen.

Sansa frowned. “Isn’t mistletoe toxic?”

Brienne looked at her, unwavering. “So?”

The teenager looked at Jaime, who was suspiciously not commenting on any of it. “Your kissing is  _ so _ bad, she’s willing to poison four kids to get out of it. I’d be concerned if I were you.”

He fake-lunged as if to grab her, but she had already skipped out of his reach, laughing.

“Mooom, she’s picking on me!”

“Jaime, I’m not  _ your _ mom,” she replied in a tired voice. “And she just beat me to it, so you’ll have to deal with it.” While he stuck out his tongue at her, she proceeded to list the tasks to be done by the time celebrations began, assigning them in her planner when there were no volunteers, and earning the usual groans in return.

When the children returned to their evening activities, Jaime sidled up to her with a rueful expression. “My kissing isn’t really  _ that _ bad, right?”

“Your kissing is not  _ required _ ,” she stated. “I’m fairly certain by now that all of them have understood that we’re not really a couple, so there’s no need to keep pretending.”

He watched her oddly as she gathered her notes, but remained quiet.

“Besides,” she added, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence, “it’s kind of slightly humiliating.”

“Humiliating?” There was genuine surprise in his voice.

“Neither of us want to be doing that. It’s basically like two kids being coaxed by adults, except the ages are reversed.”

After blinking at her for a moment, he leaned closer with an amused smirk. “So. I don’t want to be kissing you?”

“No, you don’t.” 

Jaime seemed to consider her answer for a moment, before straightening with a shrug. “Huh. That’s odd. And,” he added after a moment of reflection, “ _ you _ don’t want to be kissing  _ me _ ?”

Heat rose to her cheeks and probably a blush, too. “No, I don’t,” she tried to answer casually.

“So weird. I could have sworn - “ He laughed when she swatted him with her planner, leaving her alone with her muddled thoughts. It had  _ felt _ like flirting, or what seemed to happen to the type of women who got flirted with. When men did it with her, it was always mean-spirited. Jaime had probably not meant it like that, either way, but she hoped that she would not end up having to tell him off.

Her feelings were more than enough to deal with, she didn’t need him confusing everything any further.

 

***

 

One of the most important traditions of the holiday was the Long Night’s Wake: when hundreds of years ago, after winters had lasted years, they had started amounting to only a few months, people had begun praising the gods for their mercy. On the longest night of the year, they feasted to honour them, nervously awaiting the sunrise that would confirm, somehow, that winter would have an end once again.

Brienne had spent such nights with the Starks in Winterfell before, with plenty of young children needing to be corralled. There were also more adults then: Benjen usually came from Queenscrown, and with both Stark parents and herself, they were usually not too many for the over-excited kids. The only grace was that they would fall asleep on their own at some point, hopefully at similar time, so there was some quiet downtime.

With teenagers, however, it was a different story. They had easily stayed up and energized the whole time, which had been draining for the adults. 

“Okay, it’s time! Up to bed, everyone, now,” Brienne announced when the first rays of sunshine finally peeked through the trees. She herded the yawning teens towards the kitchen, then the stairs. None of them complained, thankfully, and she hoped that they would all be soundly asleep for at least six hours, so that she could rest, too.

She bid them all goodnight, and watched, smiling, as Jaime did the same once he was done cleaning up downstairs. She almost considered a shower - she’d fall asleep in the bathtub - hoping that it might soothe her muscles, sore from slouching on the sofa for hours, but a bed was really all that appealed to her.

Her thoughts were almost already under the covers when Jaime gently pulled her back, as she walked past the kitchen islands. She turned around, blinking at him as he took a deep breath. When he only answered her questioning look by biting his lower lip, she let her head fall back with a sigh. She was in no mood for more games.

There, from the ceiling above her, hung a few branches of mistletoe, tied with a blue ribbon. She groaned. This was stupid. The kids weren’t even there.

Her glare said as much when she looked back down to him, but he simply had a playfully apologetic expression. “It’s tradition,” he stated, taking a step towards her.

She was too tired to argue, even if somewhere, in a corner of her mind, something vaguely tried to tell her that this didn’t make sense. She sighed as he came close still, but didn’t move. “I’m still making you eat it,” she promised, as he leaned towards her with a smile.

As he pressed his lips to hers, softly, the very feeling she had hoped to avoid once again ran through her. Part need, part arousal, part desperation for affection. Goosebumps met her blush, and however more she wanted of it, she hoped it would end quickly.

There was a brief moment in which they parted, ever so slightly, but she didn’t have time to open her tired eyes that his mouth was gently moving against hers again. The shiver ran lower that time, his fingers touching her jaw softly, distracting her from the heat emanating from his body against hers.

He leaned back just enough to look at her, a faint smile on his lips. She could only blink, her mind struggling to process the meaning of the situation. She saw his eyes roam over her face as his fingers trailed to her cheek then her hair, gently pushing a strand back. His gaze stopped on her mouth again, and she looked down to his unconsciously. He seemed about to say something, but hesitated.

Instead, he leaned in once more, kissing her again, always softly, as if he was afraid to scare her. Still not quite certain of what this was all about, she let it happen, finding herself responding after just a moment.

His smile was a lot brighter when they finally stopped, as were his eyes, though clearly he holding back. “Happy Solstice,” he whispered, and she couldn’t help the light laughter that came.

The whole situation seemed so odd, yet so  _ familiar _ , and she was far too exhausted to make sense of any of it. She leaned in when he hugged her, sighed when he kissed her neck, and docilely followed when he pulled her towards the bedroom.

Putting on her pajamas in a daze, she joined him in the bathroom to brush her teeth. She could tell that he was trying not to look too much at her, and she didn’t exactly want him to think she was avoiding his gaze, glancing at him every so often. Eventually, their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror, and they both cracked up, Jaime lunging for the sink as toothpaste and saliva threatened to spill from his mouth.

They both finished brushing with a smile on their face, carefully avoiding to look at one another again until they were done. She was walking out of the bathroom when he stopped her, kissing her against the door frame. He was so tender, caressing her cheek and her neck with only gently pressing his lips on hers. There was measure to it, though she could feel his thunderous heartbeat when she placed her hands on his chest.

He kissed the bridge of her nose, exhaling softly. “Bed?” he asked with a slight grin.

Nodding shyly, she walked to her side of the bed, sitting next to him under the covers after shutting off her bedside lamp. He laid on his side, an arm under his pillow, facing her as she hesitated, unsure of what was to happen next. She felt him watch her for a moment, silent, while she blinked helplessly in the semi-darkness, chewing on her lips.

“Brienne,” he eventually said quietly, and she let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Looking down at him, she found that he was smiling, though he appeared worried. “Don’t overthink this yet,” he whispered in a pleading tone.

“I wasn’t,” she protested, rubbing her eyes with a sigh, fighting against sleep to keep them open. “There’s just - we’re... what if - “

“Too late, apparently,” he teased, pinching the fabric of her pajamas, and pulling it to force her to lie down. He slid a bit closer when she did, bridging the gap between them. Pressing a soft kiss to her lips, his forehead to hers, he smiled lovingly. “I know you’re scared. But I  _ swear _ , I  _ really _ want to be kissing you.”

She couldn’t find anything to say, and he seemed to become concerned.

“Did I misread what  _ you _ wanted...?”

“No! No,” she found herself answering, against her fears. “It’s just - it’s not just that,” she tried to explain. “We’ve got four kids, Jaime. Two more on the way - “

“It’s usually not the point where people wonder if they can make a romantic relationship work,” he grinned. “We’ll talk things through, I promise,” he added when she looked reproachful. “We’ve worked out much more complex issues, we will figure this out. Just... please enjoy this as it is for now?”

She sighed, too tired to argue any further anyway. He kissed her forehead, wrapping an arm around her to pull her against his chest.  _ This is familiar _ , Brienne thought. Shorts moments of consciousness through the nights. Most of their mornings nowadays. But this time...

She didn't have much time to dwell on her worries, as sleep quickly took over in the warmth and peace of his embrace. The brief thought that this might be just another dream crossed her mind, and she snuggled more tightly against him. If that's what it was, she was going to enjoy every last drop of it, she decided as she drifted off with the contented sigh that rose and fell from his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT FINALLY HAPPENED
> 
> THEY FINALLY GOT TOGETHER
> 
> See? I told you it would happen. Some of you doubted me! But I did it!
> 
> Next update on Tuesday! 4 chapters left! (plus the episodes I'll add)
> 
> As always, you can click [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/ZTGMGHS) if you have suggestions for scenes that were not in the main body of the fic :)


	29. The Morning After

She woke up in that same warmth, though it took her a moment to get her bearings. The room was bathed in a soft light despite the curtains, presaging a snowy day.

Jaime’s arms were still wrapped around her, although her head was now resting against his shoulder, and he lay flat on his back. She listened to his heartbeat for a moment, until the clinking of dishes reached her from the kitchen.

“The kids are up,” she groaned quietly. She could tell he was already awake from the way he was holding on to her.

“Hmmmm,” came as the sole reply for several seconds. “They’ve been up for a while.” His thumb stroked the back of her shoulder idly, and he made absolutely no movement to release his hold. “There are plenty of leftovers for breakfast.”

She felt no hurry to leave his embrace, either, but her rested mind was a lot more receptive to worry than the night before. There was just so much that could go wrong.

“What happens if this doesn’t work out?”

Brienne had fully expected that sentence to come out of her own mouth and not Jaime’s, and she looked up at him, confused. He stared at the ceiling.

“That’s what you’d like to know, right?” he sighed with half a smile.

Coming from him, it sounded a bit silly, as though she was hoping for a tangible prediction of the future. “It’s just... we’ve got a lot of responsibilities,” she attempted to justify.

“We do,” he agreed, meeting her eyes. “Just as many as we had before I kissed you earlier.”

His fingers came up to brush off a loose strand of hair from before her eyes. Even in such an innocuous gesture, there was a deep, unspoken tenderness that was far from unfamiliar.

“I didn’t just wake up yesterday wanting this,” he said softly. “I’ve had that mistletoe since before you forbid us to bring any,” he grinned, and she shook her head, unable to contain her own smile. “This was not a rash decision. I’m sorry that I kind of... ambushed you with it, and if you need time, I understand. But...” He paused, looking overcome with emotion. “I can’t imagine a world where being together doesn’t make sense.”

They looked at one another for a long moment, without another word.

“What are you afraid of?” he whispered softly, and she had to avert her eyes, feeling them welling up.

It took her a few moments to find the words. “That you’re going to realize that you can do so much better,” she finally said, knowing how the words themselves might just hasten it happening. The very thought was like a vise on her heart. 

To her surprise, he chuckled, and she looked back to find him tearing up, despite his smile. “I’m afraid you’re going to realize that _you_ _deserve_ so much better,” he replied with a shaky breath.

“You’re - “ She stopped, realizing she had no idea how to counter that. He laughed, wiping a tear that escaped, as she laid back down against his chest. He took a few deep, calming breaths, and she let a beat pass before speaking again.

“What if you meet someone?”

She could hear the smile in his voice when he replied. “Brienne, I’m forty years old - “

“You could still  _ easily _ \- “

“Let me finish,” he interrupted. “I’m forty years old, and I’ve fallen for exactly two women in that time. I don’t exactly foresee that happening many more times in the future.” He raised his head to look down at her. “Is that something that bothers you? The age difference?”

“What?” It took her a moment to understand his meaning. There  _ was  _ a nearly thirteen-year gap. “No, it doesn’t. It’s not like - “ She blushed, suddenly realizing that  _ children _ , in their situation, was a much more complicated topic than she might have thought.

“Like we’re going to have children?” he offered, annoyingly echoing her thoughts. “That’s a discussion for another day, I’d say.” There was something to discuss, apparently. “What if  _ you _ meet someone?” he countered. “It could happen. They just need to get a glimpse of how amazing you are, and it’s done.”

She scoffed. “That has happened exactly once, and I don’t foresee it happening many more times in the future,” she mocked.

He was quiet for a few seconds. “Are you settling?”

Startled, she raised herself on her elbow to look at him. “No! That’s not what I meant!”

The look on his face was teasing, and she playfully hit his shoulder, making him laugh.

“You’re an idiot,” she chided, lying back down.

“Yes, but I’m  _ your  _ idiot.”

She couldn't help but echo the smile his in voice, letting the warmth his words created seep in her bones.

They rested for a while more, until quiet but argumentative voices rose from beyond their bedroom doors. Their synchronized sigh made them chuckle, and Brienne finally pulled herself away. Duty called.

She felt his eyes on her as she stretched, sitting at the edge of the bed. Though it was not unusual, for the first time it had a different undertone. Briefly brushing her hair with her fingers, she heard Jaime get out of bed after her, forcing herself not to look back as she walked out to resolve the mounting conflict surrounding leftovers.

After ruling with Sansa that, no, Arya, cake was not suitable breakfast, Brienne started a pot of coffee. She was plating food for herself and Jaime when he came out of the bedroom, greeting the kids, and she self-consciously ignored him as he walked to get himself a mug. They had not discussed what to tell the kids, if anything. Or how, or when. She sat at one of the kitchen islands, while Jaime joined the kids at the table.

Sansa had the grace to wait until the other children had moved on from the room to speak up. “So, that mistletoe, huh?”

Turning to her in shock - how could she know that? - Brienne followed the teenager’s eyes to where the branch was  _ still hanging  _ above her. Casting Jaime a reproachful look, she rolled her eyes, acting as though her deepening blush meant nothing. “Huh. I forgot to add that to your breakfast.”

Quickly slipping off her chair to escape the hot zone, she rinsed her plate in the sink as he climbed on the counter, easily reaching the sprig from there. When she turned, holding out a hand for it, he kept it out of her reach.

“I’m framing it,” he announced happily, nearly avoiding her hand as she tried to catch him. He swiftly fled through the door to the laundry room, no doubt to hide it somewhere in the garage.

Sighing, she turned back to the counter to clear off plastic containers, ignoring the amused look on Sansa’s face. Would any of the other kids notice the change? Would they ask questions? What would they say if that happened? 

She mentioned those worries to Jaime when they found themselves alone once again in the evening, but he simply smiled. They hadn’t kissed in front of the children yet, though she knew he would gladly have. His eyes spelled  _ overthinking _ quite clearly, and she sighed as she settled next to him on the couch. Immediately shifting closer, he kissed her temple, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her against his.

“This really doesn’t have to change anything,” he whispered in her ear, making her shiver despite the warmth. “We’re still going to get up ridiculously early, make breakfast, get the kids ready for school, work, get them  _ from _ school - “

“You know it changes things,” she argued. “ _ Fundamentally _ .”

“Does it?” he asked, leaning back to look at her. “We’ve been loyal to one another and to this family. We’ve been committed to everyone’s well-being. We’ve trusted one another through some pretty difficult situations.  _ That _ is the foundation of our relationship.  _ That _ is not going to change.” 

He caressed her cheek with a smile when she didn’t argue, but she knew he understood. Some fears couldn’t be calmed by words. He kissed her, slowly, and she felt herself give up a bit.

“We’re just going to express it a bit differently,” he promised with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 3 more chapters! They're my favourites :D ~~I haven't been saying this of all chapters, no~~
> 
> Inside Sansa's head: _finally! fucking finally!_
> 
> Next chapter on Friday :) And then, maybe, I'll post the last two remaining chapters at the same time on Sunday :3
> 
> As always, you can click [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/ZTGMGHS) if you have suggestions for scenes that were not in the main body of the fic :)


	30. Life As We Know It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell you how happy I am to be posting this chapter. I read it over beforehand, and it made me smile as much as it did when I first wrote it. Its working title was, 'Fluff' ;D I hope you like it :D
> 
> ~~and if you don't I don't know what you're doing reading this fic, but okay :3~~
> 
> P.S. The second scene is the year after the first.

Brienne quietly shut the entrance door behind her, relishing the warmth of the house after the chilly spring weather. It was already nearly midnight, and while a lamp had been left on in the living room for her, the whole house was silent.

She loved her job, she really did. But the evenings when she came home to silence always made her sad. She had gotten used to a house full of music, talking, laughing, and despite still being filled by its then-sleeping occupants, it felt empty. Not entirely unlike those years back in Winterfell.

Jaime appeared in the kitchen doorway as she was shedding her coat. Leaning on the frame, he had a compassionate smile: she generally only came home that late when there had been a lot of issues throughout the event she had been supervising.

“Hey. Rough night?”

She considered the matter for a few seconds, before dropping her coat to the floor and walking towards him with a miserable pout. He met her halfway with a chuckle, knowing full well that she was exaggerating how terrible it had been  _ and _ how terrible she felt, but he graciously engulfed her in a hug nevertheless.

Nuzzling his shoulder, Brienne let herself relax under the slow strokes of his hands on her back and her neck. His warmth alone was enough to soothe some of the muscle pain she had accumulated from tension during the day.

“Tell you what,” he offered, “I know it’s late, but how about you go loosen up in a hot bath, and I bring you something to eat? Have you had anything since you left this morning?”

There was only a groan in answer, muffled by her face buried in his t-shirt. She  _ had _ eaten, but not enough by anyone’s standards. She knew his disapproving look without seeing his face.

“Alright,” he sighed. “Grilled cheese?”

“Yes, please,” she answered sheepishly, pulling away. She tried to turn back towards the foyer where her coat and boots still laid on the entrance mat, but he pulled her back, redirecting her steps to their bedroom.

“I’ll take care of this. Go,” he said as he pushed her gently. She went on reluctantly, but they both knew the truth: she did like being taken care of. Like that. By him.

She washed her face at the sink as hot water filled the bath. They had taken great care to get a tub large enough for either of them to soak in comfortably considering their appreciable bulk, but they still rarely had the occasion - or time - to properly enjoy it. Four children somehow quite fully used up both their schedule and energy. Who’d have thought? And they were still hoping for two more.

Still, she reflected as she undressed, she wouldn’t have it any other way. Just five years earlier, she had resolutely stopped dreaming about having a proper family of her own. It had started less than conventionally, but tonight she’d once again be going to bed with a loving husband, and wake up to happy, healthy children.

Not biologically hers, true. But she didn’t love them any less for it. She and Jaime had awkwardly approached the topic of a baby before, but there was still so much she feared. A child looking like her, condemned to the same viscerally painful childhood she had endured under the disgusted looks of adults and kids alike. Having to witness it as a parent and be unable to do much about it. Having to live with the guilt of it all. She knew all of the arguments, too: different times, different environment. Jaime’s perfect genetics. The love of a mother who understood it all.

And yet, nothing was ever enough to completely quell her apprehension. Jaime respected that, though there was the unspoken understanding that it was a temporary stay on the discussion, rather than a firm negative on the idea.

Brienne lowered herself into the tub with a hiss, the heat of the water initially painful but soon relaxing. She would start washing in a moment, she promised herself, leaning back with her eyes closed. The event she’d just returned from, an engagement party she’d been coerced into doing by Margaery, had not been catastrophic by any means, but a headache to manage. And she knew it was only a prelude to her best friend trying to coax her out of her no-wedding-planning rule.

It would have been easy to fall asleep in the water, Brienne reflected as she sighed and opened her eyes. Jaime was watching her, leaning against the sink with a content smile. There had been a lot of that since the Solstice, him quietly, adoringly observing her, and more than once she had had to still the voice in the back of her mind that said she could not possibly be that interesting to look at.

His smile widened when their eyes met, and he closed the distance to the tub to hand her the plate he was holding. She would never be able to eat all of the sizeable sandwich that rested on it, and the look she gave him said as much. He simply shrugged when she only took one of the halves, and settled on the floor with the other one, against the cabinet across from her.

They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, simply enjoying the undisturbed companionship they were afforded just then.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jaime finally asked.

She most definitely didn’t. “Not much to be done about it anyway,” she replied, shaking her head as she bit into her food.

“It’s called venting,” he chuckled, but didn’t press any further. They were perfectly capable to bicker and argue much longer on any subject, but she was grateful that he could generally recognize when she wasn’t in the mood for it.

“How’s Bran?” The boy was back for more treatments, and he had had a round earlier that day. Brienne usually accompanied him, but her presence had been required at the venue of the party too early for that.

“Everything went well,” Jaime answered once he’d swallowed his bite. “He took a nap when we got home, but he was fine by dinner time.”

Bran was the sort of kid who went through things quite stoically, though Brienne always wondered how much of it was due to trauma - both his accident and the partial loss of his family. She hoped that rejoining more of his biological siblings would soothe that. He also got along quite well with Tommen and Myrcella, though his odd demeanour sometimes confused them.

Brienne finished her sandwich distractedly, vaguely aware of Jaime’s eyes on her. The edge of the tub was just low enough for their eyes to meet, which was fine by her: it had been months since their relationship had changed, and she was still unsure of how she felt about him looking at her naked body. The fact that sex was now a regular activity between them had surprisingly helped very little with that. 

She had not been entirely without intimate experience before him, and he had not been with many partners himself, so they had carefully approached one another, taking time to find the right touches, the right words. Most men she had been with had been impatient when confronted by her insecurities, the very same they had often hoped to exploit. In contrast, Jaime had deliberately maintained a slow pace, even when she could clearly see that he was exercising restraint. 

The already cooling water made her shiver, and she announced that she should get out and go to bed. “Yeah, it’s pretty late,” Jaime concurred, but he seemed to have no intention of moving from his spot. She cast him a disapproving look, he feigned innocence, and she decided that it wasn’t worth the argument.

A blush had already started in earnest on her chest when she carefully stood up. His legs were nearly long enough to reach the other wall from where he sat, so she had to step between them to reach the towels from the rack. Wrapping one around herself, she looked down at him.

His eyes had followed her every move, and probably every inch of her bare skin. She knew the gleam in his gaze, and the mischievous grin on his lips, and he only confirmed it all when he leaned towards her, still sitting, and slowly slid a warm hand at the back of her leg. She found herself unable to speak when he moved it up to the inside of her thigh, just over the knee, sending a profound shiver through her. He kissed her skin, never breaking eye contact, and she was already regretting the protests that hadn’t yet left her lips. 

“I’m exhausted,” she found herself apologizing when he stood before her. 

Jaime smiled sweetly at that. “I know,” he replied softly, wrapping his arms all around her and pulling her into a slow, deep kiss. She would probably not resist much if he insisted, they both knew. When he pulled away, he caressed her cheek, letting his eyes roam over her face with a content smile. When they met hers, she saw the same puzzling adoration she had often glimpsed in the darkness of their bedroom. “I don’t think we need to make love for me to let you know that you turn me on, as you are,” he explained tenderly.

Brienne could only blink in response. He kissed her again, gently this time, and waited until she smiled to let go. Pressing his lips to her naked shoulder, he took the empty plate and headed out of the bathroom.

“Your pajamas are on the bed, fresh out of the dryer. I’ll go finish up in the kitchen.”

She stood in her towel for a moment, still a bit dazed. There was a good deal of the warmth from their embrace that hadn’t left with him, and she felt it bloom in her chest. Her blush had invaded most of the surface of her body by now, but for once the heat of it didn’t make her feel self-conscious. She caught her reflection in the mirror as she headed to the bedroom, the same ungainly traits she had ever known. Somehow, this time, she found herself smiling at them.

 

***

 

Jaime had been right: the new nature of their relationship had caused very little change in their family life. They  _ had _ managed to let Benjen know that they would be quite open to taking in Bran and Rickon, which had made the Northman laugh. Apparently, he had been about to breach the subject himself.

They aimed to make the move as easy as possible on all the children. The youngest Stark was a bit apprehensive, having known nothing but the Northlands, so it was decided that they would have him spend time in King’s Landing over the summer, as Bran underwent further treatment at the KLU research center.

When that went well, and with solid assurances that they would still get to see their uncle, the process to have the guardianship transferred to Brienne and Jaime begun. It was fairly easy: they had the means, the space, and the other two Stark sisters.

Some remodelling of the house was necessary, and an additional bedroom was created upstairs from a section of the recreation room. As the oldest, Sansa moved into it on her own; Arya and Myrcella, who had somehow become unlikely best friends, shared a room, and Rickon settled with Tommen. Bran still had his ground floor room, though he had made remarkable progress, covering increasing distance on crutches rather than spending most of his time in his wheelchair.

While six children represented a lot of work for any parent, their main challenge was the logistics of it all. As Jaime had refused to have Brienne cut down on the events she took on, the need for another adult to help out had become obvious.

One of the construction workers that had helped with both the initial renovations on the house, and on the more recent remodelling, had struck the kids’ interest. Gruff, unceremonious, and having made clear that he was not a fan of the Lannister family, he also happened to be a fairly close neighbour, and would occasionally moonlight as a bodyguard.

Brienne had not been not enthused by the idea of hiring him at first. There was little of Sandor Clegane that suggested he would be well-suited to deal with children, even though he had been impressively patient whenever Arya, Tommen and Rickon interrupted his work with incessant questions. Jaime had argued that they didn’t need a  _ nanny _ : they wanted a driver, someone who could watch over them for a couple of hours at a time, and make sure they were safe. 

Tyrion had gotten a fair deal of press over a short time in the spring, from his frolics around the city clubs, which had prompted tabloids to look more closely at the other Lannister son. They had quickly discovered Jaime had married - only some four years after the fact - and there had been paparazzi on their path ever since, sometimes getting much too close to the children for Brienne’s tastes.

Eventually Jaime had won her over, if only for a trial period had proven successful, and Sandor had become a staple of their aggregated family. Still, Brienne generally only exchanged a polite nod with him whenever they passed one another, which was more than enough interaction for either of them. Their schedule didn’t allow for much more anyway: she usually returned home shortly after Jaime, or later, at which point Sandor was usually on his way out or already gone. That suited them both.

She came home to what seemed to be an empty house one early evening, shortly after school had started again following the Solstice holidays. Their  _ employee _ , for lack of a more specific title, was in the foyer, putting his coat on to leave. The quiet was unusual, and her questioning must have shown on her face, because Sandor rolled his eyes and pointed to the ceiling. Almost on cue, distant laughter resonated from the staircase in the kitchen, and she made her way upstairs without a word.

Arya, Bran and Myrcella had build a blanket castle in the recreation room, and were playing one of their favourites, the Queen, the Knight, and the Assassin, using a rolling chair backwards as Bran’s steed. Brienne barely got a wave, taken as they were by their game, but she was more than happy to let them enjoy it.

Jaime was leaning on the doorframe of Rickon and Tommen’s bedroom at the end of the hall. He appeared deep in thought, with an odd, sorrowful look on his face. He didn’t seem to notice when she walked up to him, until she slid her arms around him. Startled out of his reverie, he smiled at her as she nuzzled his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said quietly as he turned back to watch the kids. “Good day?”

The boys had sprawled their art supplies on the floor and were deep in conversation about the challenges of socialization at school as they worked on their drawings. Sansa had settled on Tommen’s bed with a book, and briefly raised her head to acknowledge Brienne’s arrival.

Brienne simply hummed in answer to Jaime’s question, tightening her hug. “You okay?” His earlier expression worried her a bit. The kids seemed alright, so chances were that whatever was bothering him was some poison out of the past.

He looked puzzled for a moment, picking up the concern in her eyes. “Yeah,” he replied, his tone almost a question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you looked... sad,” she answered, feeling unwarranted embarrassment as a blush crept up her neck. She’d probably misread it.

There was a gentle smile in his green eyes as they searched hers, and he pulled her along towards the stairs, pausing to inform the Queen and her company that they would be downstairs. Bran was not quite solid enough on his crutches to attempt going up and down by himself, so the children knew to come ask for either of their parents to carry him as needed.

Once in the kitchen, Jaime sat on one of the high chairs from the island, pulling Brienne so she stood right in front of him. He took a moment to choose his words before speaking.

“I wasn’t sad, exactly. I was just... reflecting on my life. Our life,” he corrected. “Because of Cersei,” he added after a pause, “I never really imagined I could have a family of my own. I never thought I could love anyone else as much as I loved her, and anything less would have been unfair to everyone involved.”

There it was, the sadness she had seen. Brienne knew it would never truly go away, not entirely, and she had mostly made her peace with it. She caressed his cheek with an empathic smile that he returned.

“But I do,” he continued, wrapping his arms around her waist. “And I’m happier about this life than I ever imagined I could be.” He always took care not to compare her to his twin in any way, so even such a subtle statement was out of the ordinary. She had never really doubted it, but if she was honest with herself, it was still good to hear.

Bending down, she kissed him slowly, feeling his chest rise and fall with a content sigh. They smiled at one another, and she gave a small chuckle that made him look curious.

“It’s just... sort of ironic,” she explained. “You thought you would never love someone enough to have a family of your own. I thought no one would ever love  _ me _ enough to have a family of my own.” There was that pained expression in his eyes whenever she spoke of her struggles. “I guess we both got lucky.”

He pulled her back down for a kiss, pulling her closer still. “I love you so much,” he breathed when they parted, looking up at her. “And I love our family.”

“And I love you,” she replied awkwardly as emotions flooded her. He buried his face against her chest, and she felt the warmth of his breath through her shirt as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

This was almost all too perfect, a voice warned in her mind, but she cut short the doubts that threatened. She was allowed to be happy, all of the Seven be damned. Kissing the top of his head, she leaned her cheek against it, eyes closed. 

They enjoyed the relative quiet for a while, relishing in their embrace, until Brienne opened her eyes. Finding Sansa watching them with a grin from the stairs, she smiled back at the teenager. There was a time when she would have quickly stepped away, embarrassed by the display of affection, but not tonight.

“Her Majesty’s court would like to know if they can have snacks,” Sansa explained. “Somehow I became the messenger.” She had braided her auburn hair much like Catelyn used to, Brienne noticed, strongly reminded of her mentor. However annoyed she looked at running errands, it was clear that the girl enjoyed her role of older sister. Her mother would have been proud.

“Sure. But not upstairs,” Brienne answered, pulling away slightly as Sansa went back to tell her siblings. “They’re probably going to want to all come down at once,” she warned her husband. Obviously, safety dictated that whoever got Bran up or down the stairs carried only the boy. Arya and Myrcella, however, had often successfully argued that they were “light enough” not to make much difference to someone “as strong as them”. And then one parent would become a noble steed to all three of them.

Jaime groaned softly but let Brienne move away. He watched her for a moment as she took out fruits, cheese, and crackers, before walking up to her again and pulling her into a kiss.

“Don’t give them the opportunity to decide to try and come down by themselves,” she warned. Their patience usually ran low when Arya was involved.

“You do know I’m going to marry you again, right?”

Startled, it took her a moment to react. Laughter didn’t seem to be what he had expected. “If that was you proposing, I would argue that it’s  _ almost _ as bad as the first time!”

He looked offended for half a second, but smiled. “You want the whole proposal thing? Okay. Though I guess it’s a bit cheating since I know you’re going to say yes,” he mused.

“Really? What makes you so sure?” Her tone was serious enough to have him squint at her.

“A challenge. Okay, I can work with this,” he grinned, and she felt a blush threaten as she fleetingly imagined what he might come up with.

“Go,” she ordered, pushing him towards the staircase. He chuckled, looking back at her mischievously before making his way to the kids. Great. Now she would be suspicious until he went through with it, she reflected with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the story of how I cornered myself into writing a proposal, because this is the last chapter that I wrote. I already had the last two, but the proposal had not been included. When the end of this scene took form in my mind, my friends received a great deal of swearing in their inbox cause I had no clue what to write for it.
> 
> I'm very happy with what I ended up choosing. It's in the next chapter, to be posted on Sunday :)
> 
> We're drawing to a close, but you can still click [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/ZTGMGHS) if you have suggestions for scenes that were not in the main body of the fic :)


	31. The Renewal of Vows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff. I'm not even sorry.

It would have been poetic for Jaime to choose the Solstice to propose again, as it truly symbolized new beginnings for all of them by now. But it had just passed, and he was in no mind to wait for nearly another year.

Still, Brienne being suspicious of his every attention was entertaining. That raised the bar for expectations, however, and he had quickly realized that it was stressing him more than he had expected it to.

He had the means to do something big and public, and that was tempting. Some of the tabloids had commented on the unlikeliness of their relationship, to put it kindly, and while Brienne simply avoided the rags, somehow it needled him to have anyone question her worth as his partner in life.

But she would be embarrassed by such a display, and this was definitely not the reaction Jaime hoped to get.

Several weeks went by as he tried to decide on a manner and a moment, juggling clever tricks and romantic gestures without arriving to any satisfying solution. A proposal on Lovers’ Day would probably be corny, and she would spend the day wary of his every move anyway, which would make a surprise all the more difficult.

So when Brienne woke him up with breakfast in bed the morning of the holiday, he almost feared - and if he was honest, hoped - that she had decided to do the proposal herself. She had never cared much for that sort of gender roles, and it would have been fair for her to do it this time.

But she simply kissed him, wishing him a happy Lovers’ Day, and he found nothing else to answer than “I’m a happy lover every day.”

The whole day felt like a missed opportunity, and failed expectations. Jaime knew that despite what she had said, the chances of her rejecting him were nonexistent, and she would likely be more than happy with whatever he came up with. Yet he still desperately wanted to somehow woo her the way she deserved to be, and none of his ideas came close to feeling right.

“I’m surprised, I expected you to take advantage of this day,” she teased when they finally prepared for bed that evening. They had each peppered the day with small attentions for the other. She had gotten him an art book on Asshai’s architectural marvels, he’d bought her a new tablet, to replace the very old one she had carried since Winterfell. He had comically exaggerated their kiss when the kids had jokingly clamoured for one.

But he had not proposed.

He looked at her for a moment, realization slowly seeping in his mind as her expression grew more curious. Finally he went to her, kissing her gently.    
  
“I had a lot of ideas,” he explained when they parted. “I thought of involving the kids. We could have had an intervention-style proposal in which each of them told you why you should marry me again.”   
  
Brienne chuckled. It was a bit convoluted, but it would have been cute. “And instead...?”   
  
“But then I realize, we already got married for the kids,” he continued in a more serious tone. “You married me for Arya and Sansa. I married you for Tommy and Ella. Neither of us saw Rick and Bran coming, but all the same: we got together for the children.”   
  
He held her hands on each side of her body, stroking her skin with his thumbs.   
  
“So this is just me,” he said, stepping back slightly, not letting go of her. “And I’m wondering if you’d wish to spend the rest of your life with me, even after the kids are grown. Not for duty, this time, but for love.”

He went down on one knee, breathless, conscious that with this wording, she could very well say no, or not give an immediate answer. They had officially been together for barely over a year, and he had not thought this through. While that second wedding would have no legal bearing, he knew that she would not commit to it if she did not truly mean it. 

She looked down at him, and for a terrifying moment, she seemed to think on her answer. Later, he would realize that she was making sure she had no doubts before speaking her choice, but in the moment he felt his heart threaten to tear apart. This had been such a bad idea. 

Finally she smiled, her impossibly blue eyes blinking away the glistening that had started to settle below her lashes. “I will,” she replied, “for love.”

 

*******

 

It was a bit silly to feel nervous, Jaime reflected as he stood next to the makeshift altar. They were already married, after all: this was just a renewal of vows, of sorts. The very fact that Brienne had agreed to it was already proof of their commitment to one another. This was almost just for show.

Yet, the anxiety was not totally unjustified. For a couple of weeks now, she had been distant, and he had woken up more than once alone in bed, only to find her sleeping on the sofa. He had been alarmed, wondering about both her health and that of their relationship, but she had assured him that everything was fine. She just had trouble sleeping, she’d explained, and didn’t want to wake him up.

He had not been convinced and it had shown. They could push the wedding, he had offered, thinking she might not feel ready, but she had refused.

“Everything is fine. I just... need some space for now. Well,” she had added, “as much as a mom of six can afford, I guess.”

“Did I... do something?” There was no use trying to hide his concern, and she had immediately turned comforting.

“No! No,” she had insisted. “I love you. You’re amazing,” she’d promised, and it was dangerously close to sounding fake to his ears. Then again, the woman he loved was telling him she wanted him to stay away, so he couldn’t exactly trust his gut just then. She had taken his hands and leaned in to kiss him sincerely. “Jaime, there is absolutely nothing wrong between us, I swear to you.”

He had asked again a few times, about the wedding, and she had patiently tried to reassure him every time, though nothing she said could truly dent his apprehension.

It was vaguely tempered by the fact that this was _Brienne_ , after all. She would be the last person on the planet to go through a ceremony she didn’t intend to commit to. She  _ had _ married him once without regard to her feelings, but that had been different. She  _ said _ she would marry him for love.

Seated on lawn chairs before the altar, their few guests chatted amicably, oblivious to his frayed nerves. Walder, Alerie and Ravella from the city planning office sat in the last row with Jeyne and Jon, the receptionist and security agent who had never liked Jaime. Brienne had easily befriended both of them, and had insisted that they should be invited even though to that very moment, they both still glared at him.

Some of the friends she had made at the Oldtown Medieval Convention were also in attendance, loudly hoping that she would show up in armour.

“We can do this in jeans and a t-shirt, if you like,” he had told her when they had first discussed the event. “This is just for us, anyway.”

She had looked at him funnily then, and every single time he had repeated it since, never committing to the idea - or to any other, really. She hadn’t asked what he would wear, either, and in the end he’d opted for a light shirt, and the jacket of a navy suit that would go well with her stupidly blue eyes, whatever she had decided to wear.

Margaery had only consented to relinquishing the role of maid of honour to hand the duty off to Sansa, Arya and Myrcella, who were likely still fussing over the bride-to-be-again. The best friend sat with Tyrion, probably reminiscing about the previous wedding, nearly five years before.

Brienne’s father had happily accepted their invitation, and he kept a watchful eye on Jaime while he entertained Tommen, Rickon and Bran. Selwyn had been overjoyed to learn of the two other boys joining his roster of grandchildren, and had impatiently looked forward to meeting them, especially now that all adoptions had been finalized.

His daughter had refused to be walked down the aisle, meeting resistance neither from him nor from the groom on the matter. The tradition of ‘giving away’ the bride was ridiculous in her opinion, as was that of the ceremonial cloaks. They had agreed to simply exchange rings again, though her husband had had to work very hard to be allowed to get new ones.

Tywin Lannister had not been invited. Following Cersei’s funeral, he had reiterated that Jaime should never have gotten in this situation in the first place, and threatened all he could to get him to put an end to it. When his son hadn’t budged and stopped returning his calls, he had announced - via several of his lawyers - that he would be disinherited.

That was where things stood as Jaime waited at the altar. It would not affect their finances in any way, as he had money in his own right. The idea of never owning Casterly Rock, the Lannister ancestral seat, was not especially troubling either: while there were  _ some _ fond memories within its walls, it was a part of his life he was perfectly okay with moving on from.

Especially since he had so much to move  _ toward _ .

The casual music that had been playing for ambiance stopped, signalling to everyone that the ceremony was about to start. Jaime took a deep breath, straightening his jacket. In a moment, Brienne would appear at the entrance of the tent.

The guests took their seats, and ceremonial music arose, framing the entrance of Arya and Myrcella, who respectively wore shorts and a t-shirt, and a classic, white summer dress. The Stark girl proudly carried the short sword she’d been allowed to purchase, while his niece held a bouquet of pale blue flowers.

They were so wildly different, Jaime admired, and yet neither of them looked out of place in this wedding.

Brienne followed, already blushing, also holding a bouquet against her chest, though this one was yellow, red, and blue roses. She was wearing light, cream-coloured linen trousers and the long, loose blue cardigan that she had had on pretty much at all times these past few weeks.

Jaime blinked away the inexplicable tears that filled his eyes. Gods, she was beautiful. She might never be called pretty, but there was a beauty to her that he sometimes despaired to show the world. To show her. She never questioned his love aloud, but he knew that there were doubts that might never truly go away. He would gladly spend the rest of his life trying to ease them out of existence, if she let him.

She walked up to him with a shy smile as he held a hand for her, impatient to touch her. His grin was nearly as bright as she was when she took place next to him, and he attempted to steady himself with a shaky breath. “I would kiss you right now,” he said, “but I’ve been told I have to wait for people to talk first,” he explained with a pout that made her chuckle.

They turned to Benjen, who had graciously agreed to officiate the wedding. As a first ranger - having regained his position when they had relieved him of parental duties - he had the moral and legal authority to do so, though neither was needed. But it pleased Jaime to think that, short of a septon, this ceremony would be as symbolic and meaningful as it could get.

“You’ve offered me this life,” she started when the time came to exchange their vows, “for little else than the hope that we could benefit from one another. You have cared for what I cherished, and you’ve gone out of your way time and time again to make sure I was happy. And I am,” she paused. “I really am.”

Tears threatened again, in his eyes and hers alike, and he felt his fears ebb away a little more.

“In the beginning, I was convinced that I should return in kind everything you brought me,” she continued, carefully choosing her words, “in order to retain my independence. But eventually I realized that the very nature of a partnership goes against that. We complete one another. I trust you with my life,” she said with a deep breath, “but trusting you with my heart is a testament to just how much you mean to me, and how much I love you.”

Damn it all.

Jaime stepped against her in one fluid movement, capturing her lips with his own amidst applause from their guests. He would have gladly kept that going if Benjen hadn’t put an end to it, and dutifully parted from his blushing bride to pronounce his own vows.

...only to close the distance between them a moment later, kissing her again tenderly. He felt her hand on his cheek, and leaned back slightly to watch her smile at him.

“I love you,” he breathed, swallowing hard to try and contain the emotions that were flooding his senses. The depths of her blue eyes were calling to him, and everything else disappeared. “I never thought I’d love someone half so much as I love you,” he whispered softly. “I’m a better person for having met you, and a better parent, and I do my damn hardest to be the best possible husband I can be, because you deserve nothing less.”

She smiled, with the fond expression that he never grew tired of seeing on her face. “You’re doing a great job,” she tried to reassure him.

“And I can do better, I promise. I  _ will  _ remember to pick up my clothes from the bedroom floor at some point, I swear.” That made her laugh, along with everyone watching them, bringing him back to reality.

“You are a light in this world, Brienne,” he continued when she settled back into a shy smile. “And I will spend the rest of my days doing everything I can to deserve that light in my life.”

Quietly, she studied him for a while after he was done. Though it made no sense, he wondered if in that very moment she was considering whether or not he was worthy. When she kissed him, relief and pride swelled in him, and his mouth followed when she leaned back. There was an amused smile on her lips when he opened his eyes, and for a very brief second, the doubt he had carried for the past few weeks insinuated itself in his heart.

But she was here, with him, and he trusted her, so he simply grinned back. They turned to Benjen, and hand in hand, they swore anew their love, loyalty, and commitment to one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So_ not sorry.
> 
> You know what would close this story well? A happily ever after chapter, to be posted on Tuesday ;)
> 
> Click [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/ZTGMGHS) if you have suggestions for scenes that were not in the main body of the fic :)


	32. Wedding Gifts

The reception was full of well-wishes from all of the guests, as well as a few handmade gifts. Brienne had insisted that they didn’t  _ need _ anything that money could buy, so crafted items would be far more appreciated if anyone  _ really _ wanted to bring something. Jaime had refrained from reminding her that those too could in fact be bought with money. There was no reason to ruin the innocence of her views.

Especially since he had planned on taking advantage of them.

They were finally seated to eat when Tyrion gestured to him, signalling that the delivery he had been hoping for had just arrived. He stood as Brienne cast him an odd look.

“My friends,” he announced, getting everyone’s attention, “you all know that my lady wife is not quite one for frills and bows. Though she sometimes enjoys them in private,” he added in a much lower voice, stoically receiving the smack she dished on his thigh. “I am beyond honoured that she wears our ring as well, as she doesn’t much care for jewelry, either.”

“Is this supposed to go somewhere? Because right now it just sounds like you’re making fun of me,” she protested next to him, and there was a hint of warning in her voice. He simply smiled warmly at her and went on.

“Indeed, she is not made of silk and linen, but forged from iron and fire, and only fools are distracted from her strength by the way she looks.”

She was squinting at him now, and he knew she was beginning to suspect what was coming - not that he was being especially subtle. Taking a step back, he knelt before her with a grin.

“My lady, what is a knight without her blade?”

There was confusion in her eyes, until a commotion shifted her attention to newcomers, two men all dressed in medieval clothing. One of them carried the blue suit of armour he had commissioned for her nearly two years ago, and the other held a long, thin case.

Brienne turned back to her husband, mouth agape, and he beamed at her, knowing she was about to chide him for the gift. Or she would have, had she not been rendered speechless. One of the men carrying the cases walked around the table, and Jaime made way for him to present it to her.

Her fingers gingerly traced the inscription engraved in the wooden cover -  _ Oathkeeper _ . The name of the sword that had been lost from Tarth centuries prior. There was almost fear in her eyes, and he felt the need to walk next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her temple.

“It’s not  _ the one _ ,” he said simply, knowing she would not have known how to handle that. “But...” He shrugged slightly, inviting her to open it.

The sword was sheathed in an ornate scabbard, decorated with intricate designs of silver and gold. There was the lion of Lannister, as the original would have shown; but there was also the moons and sunbursts of the Tarth coat of arms.

Sapphire eyes and another golden mane made the pommel, and she delicately touched each, following the lines down to the grip. She was about to wrap her fingers around it when she hesitated, pulling her hand back.

“It’s yours,” he encouraged her, and she looked to him in disbelief.

“You bought me a  _ sword _ ?”

He smirked. “I had a sword  _ made _ for you,” he argued, underlining that he had kept to her wishes, present-wise. When she just stared at him, he turned to the case, lifting the scabbard out and presenting it to her, handle first.

She eventually slid her hand on it, biting her lip as she carefully curled her fingers into a steady grip as everyone waited in bated breath. Pulling it out revealed gorgeous ripples of red and black, and Brienne instinctively rested the steel flat on her forearm, skin shielded by her cardigan.

After a moment of quiet admiration, she slightly turned her head to him. “You’re  _ such _ an idiot,” she declared, though he could hear that she tried very hard not to smile.

He did it in her stead, brightly. “I know that the real Oathkeeper was lost a long time ago, and descriptions were a bit hazy, so I got a team of researchers to find out as much as they could,” he explained proudly. “Then I found someone to make it. Obviously, it’s not Valyrian steel, as you can understand, but this is as close to it as it could get. And,” he beamed, knowing she would appreciate that last bit even more, “this is one of two replicas. The other one only has lions on the sheath, like the original, and it was donated to the Tarth Museum.”

Though that definitely got him points with her father, who had been a fervent champion for the island’s history, he knew that she was equally impressed. The look she gave him promised a reward that he hoped would mark the end of their time apart. She had been anxious about leaving the children behind for a honeymoon, but he did hope for a proper wedding night.

He was still quite surprised when she lead him back inside to their bedroom when the celebrations quieted down some.

“You... do know there’s still people out there, right?” he asked, though he was fairly certain that she did not have the same thing in mind. She gave him the disapproving look she reserved for his teasing, but went to the walk-in closet, turning the light on.

The garment bag that she was now unzipping had been hidden behind some of his suits. It revealed light, pale blue fabric that he immediately understood to be a dress. Her wedding dress.

The neckline would have gone from one shoulder to the other, leaving only a V-indentation below her throat. The skirt was a bit shorter in the front, and would probably have shown off her legs up to her knees. At least.

It was a simple dress, with clean lines and, as he would have expected, no frills.

“It’s... beautiful,” he said, his tone indicating his confusion. Why hadn’t she worn it earlier?

She smiled a bit sadly at the garment, delicately fanning the fabric, before answering the unspoken question. “It’s too tight,” she simply said.

He blinked at her. “We could have had it altered...?”

She was uncharacteristically nervous, he suddenly realized. Being uncomfortable about her appearance was nothing new, but not like this. Looking at her feet, she bit her lower lip as she stopped her hand mid-air. Instead, she stretched her fingers, straightening her arm at her side. There was an odd frustration on her features, as clearly she was struggling to get her meaning across. His mind started trying to piece things together, until -

No. Was it -

“Are you pregnant?” he asked quietly, as if speaking it too loudly could ruin it.

She studied him for a moment, gauging his reaction, before nodding slightly. “Yes.”

His first reflex would have been to laugh and hold her and kiss her, but the apprehension on her face paralyzed him. “Is this... a good thing? You... don’t seem entirely happy,” he asked, a lump in his throat.

“I - “ She hesitated, looking for words. “I am happy,” she said after a moment, “it’s just...”

He remembered the very few times they had discussed the matter, and the concerns she had expressed. He doubted any of them had suddenly vanished. Walking to her, he wrapped his arms around her as she sighed. “Scary?” he offered.

“Terrifying,” she breathed out, almost in relief. She leaned against him when he pulled her to him, and he finally felt himself relax for the first time in weeks. Now that he knew what it was, he was certain they could do this together.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered against her neck. Not alone to raise the child, not alone with her feelings. He might never truly comprehend her fears, but he would never let her face them on her own.

“I know. But...”

“I understand.” There were apprehensions that nothing but time could help.

She pulled away to look at him with a shy smile, and he finally let the exhilaration of the news trickle out.

“We’re having a baby,” he let out with a grin, and she laughed. Hugging and kissing her, he almost considered locking their bedroom doors to properly celebrate the occasion, but he suspected she wouldn’t quite agree. Eventually he calmed down, sighing happily as he looked at her. “Is this why we’ve been apart?”

She actually looked  _ guilty _ at the question. “You know how I felt. Feel,” she corrected, and he nodded, kissing her forehead. “When I started to suspect it, I... I needed some time to come to terms with it. And I knew that if I was right, things - “ she waved to her chest “ - would quickly become pretty obvious for you. I just sort of... needed to take a deep breath.”

He could not fault her for that, though he also couldn’t help feeling that he must have done something wrong,  _ somewhere _ , if she hadn’t felt she could tell him right away. The memory of Cersei’s pregnancies came to his mind, but he pushed it away. This was entirely different. 

“How far along are you?”

“Ten weeks,” she said, almost apologetically. “I went to the maester this week for a test. She confirmed it two days ago.”

Jaime nodded absentmindedly. She didn’t have to explain that she had probably waited until the result would be pretty obvious, given her apprehension. Still, he wished she had told him sooner. But she hadn’t, it was done, and she was telling him now.

He took a deep breath, tightening his arms around her and pulling her into a kiss. “I love you,” he breathed, and pulled her chin up when she averted her eyes. “I love you,” he repeated, locking eyes with her, “and I know you feel guilty, and I understand why you waited, and  _ I love you _ . And,” he added, pausing on each word, “we. Are. Having. A. Baby.”

She laughed, and let him kiss her again, and he knew they would be fine. 

“I missed you,” she sighed, and there was an indescribable joy in his heart at her words.

“You have no idea,” he sursurred, and she met his heated gaze with a blush. There  _ would  _ be a wedding night. 

When they both felt steady enough to return to their guests, they made their way towards the backyard. Just as they crossed the threshold of the patio doors, he stopped her gently, leaning to speak into her ear.

“Your father is here, and I don’t know when we’ll see him again in person. Do we tell him now? I mean, we don’t have to tell  _ everyone _ , and the kids will figure it out soon enough anyway.”

Brienne nodded, though clearly she was a bit nervous.

“I bet he cries,” Jaime offered, trying to make her relax. She cast him a reproachful look that badly hid a grin. “There is a baby growing inside his cherished, only daughter. I say he cries.”

Selwyn fiercely hugged his daughter, speechless for a moment from the emotion. When he finally let her go to question her - when was she due? had she seen a maester? was she being careful? - he brushed something from his eye, and Jaime did all he could not to laugh, earning a mom-glare from his wife.

When cabs finally departed with the last well-fed, happy guests in the late evening, the kids were ushered to their bedrooms. The wedding alone had been excitement enough for the day, their parents had decided, and the news of another sibling on the way could wait some more.

When they were finally alone again, she wordlessly pulled him to the bedroom, much to his relief. Not much would happen, he knew, as they were far too exhausted to celebrate any further at this point. He would make it up to her, he vowed. He already had plenty of ideas.

He listened to her breathing for a while, his arms wrapped around her. In just a few months there would be another voice added to the sweet cacophony of their home.

“Brienne?” he whispered, hoping he would not pull her out of much needed rest.

“Hmm?”

“Will you tell me next time?”

She raised herself on her elbows, looking at him questioningly. “Next time I’m pregnant?” There was a challenge in her voice, and he grinned. “Sure,” she answered off-handedly, cuddling back against his chest.

“Really?” He knew he was teasing, but that her answer, as dismissive as she was, would still be her word.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” he smiled, and he fell asleep dreaming of a houseful of blond babies.

 

***

 

“How did you get pregnant anyway? We always used protection,” he wondered as they prepared for bed the following night. 

She shrugged as she fluffed her pillow. “I’m not sure. But we did spend a weekend away at your apartment around that time, and... well.  _ Things _ happened several times, and there was alcohol involved, so...”

“We’re adults, Brienne, you can say that we had sex for two days straight,” he chuckled as she pulled her tongue at him. “Even if I forgot the condom once, it wouldn’t make sense. Your birth control would have still worked.”

There was an odd silence, and an even odder look.

“What?”

“Jaime... I’ve been off of that for nearly a year. I switched a few brands over the years, but I was getting bad enough secondary effects that the maester said I would probably be better off without.  _ I told you that _ ,” she explained, staring at him in disbelief.

He gaped at her for a few seconds. “Oh,” he finally answered. “I guess that’s on me then.”

“You  _ think _ ?” She threw a pillow at him, that he caught easily. “I guess we have improvements to make, communication-wise.”

He slipped in bed, pulling the cover up over his nose, looking at her sheepishly above them. “Like saying how much we love each other?” he asked innocently, receiving one of the chiding looks she usually reserved for the kids. When she came to lie next to him, he snuggled closer.

“I’m sorry I inadvertently got you pregnant before we were properly ready to discuss it,” he said sincerely, and she smiled.

“You’re lucky that you’re cute.”

 

***

 

“This is going to be our seventh child,” she sighed the next morning as she prepared coffee. 

He hummed as he kissed her neck, oblivious to the hint of complaint in her statement. “At least you listened, and it’s not a stray this time,” he chuckled.

“Which is going to be all the more demanding,” she argued. “They were all pretty much autonomous when we got them. This one is going to require starting from scratch. Sleepless nights, potty training, manners - “

“ - reading, football, sword fighting...”

“Jaime.”

“Brienne,” he mocked. “Between us, we have all the skills to do this. Although I do get the part where we’re going to become exhausted really quickly, so I guess we’ll get Sandor to take baby training,” he suggested, fully expecting a scandalized look from his wife. He was not disappointed. The man had declined attending the wedding because he “didn’t do that sort of sappy crap.” They would not test the limits of his patience with a screaming baby. 

“We don’t have to get a nanny,” Brienne protested. “I’ll stay home. I can do a lot of work from here,” she argued when he looked at her pointedly. “Besides, I’ve been training someone to help, so hopefully he’ll be ready to step up by the time this comes out,” she said, waving at her belly.

“Good!” he exclaimed happily. “That way we’ll be ready for the next one, too!”

Somehow, she managed a silent, disapproving stare as she poured herself coffee in a mug, not spilling a drip.

“We’ll start with this one, right,” he agreed tamely, sipping on his coffee.

_But everything in time_ , he thought with a smile as he watched Brienne unconsciously place a hand on her stomach. Things would fall into place on their own.

~ The End ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just like that, it's done :)
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who followed this story, and for every single comment and kudos! I hope the burn was worth it. And if it wasn't, ah well :3
> 
> See you in the episodes, if you're into that sort of things :)
> 
> (Suggestions remain open [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/ZTGMGHS) until I'll decide I'm done with this story)


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